^' 


\ 


w 


-^  ^^>/^>r 


THE 


FATAL  CABINET  ; 


OR  THE 


PROFLIGATE  MOTHER. 


TWO  VOLUMES  IN  ONE. 


VOL.  I. 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY  ISAIAH  THOMAS,  Jr. 

NO.  5  CORNHILL-SQUARE. 

Samuel  Avery,  printer — 10  State-Street. 
1810. 


3/3  a?2 


THE 


FATAL  CABINET  ; 


ORTBE 


PROFLIGATE  MOTHER. 


CHAP.  I. 

In  the  north  of  England  long  had  lived  a 
family  highly  respectable  in  its  descent;  and 
Avhose  affluent  circumstances  ensured  them 
every  luxury  and  comfort  the  world  could 
bestow.  The  doors  of  hospitality  were 
opened  with  a  liberal  welcome,  and  the 
master's  generous  spirit  was  conspicuous 
in  every  domestic  arrangement. — Henry 
Grosvenor,  the  son  and  heir  of  a  man  so 
respected  and  beloved,  became  in  due  time 
the  possessor  of  a  noble  and  improving  es- 
tate, and  of  course  inherited  all  the  wealth 
of  his  lamented  father. — He  married  a  wo- 
man, whose  beauty  was  her  chief  recom- 
mendation ;  he  had  long  admired  the  bloom- 
ing graces  of  her  person,  nor  till  too  late 


4  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

did  he  discover  the  deficiencies  of  her  head 
and  heart.  Formed  by  nature  for  the  en- 
dearing comforts  of  domestic  life,  and  dis- 
appointed of  the  fair  prospects  which  the 
romance  of  a  youthful  imagination  had 
pourtrayed,  he  at  first  yielded  to  all  t'^e 
whims  and  caprices  of  a  young  and  beauti- 
ful wife  ;  he  indulged  her  in  frequent  visits 
to  London,  where  she  enjoyed  without  re- 
straint all  the  gaiety  of  fashionable  dissipa- 
tion. The  birth  of  a  daughter  he  naturally 
hoped  would  have  led  her  mind  to  more 
domestic  pursuits  and  occupations;  he  re- 
gretted that  a  son  and  heir  had  not  gratified 
his  anxious  wishes,  but  he  was  doomed  to 
repeated  disappointments.  Another  child 
was  never  born  alive,  greatly  owing  to  the 
imprudence  of  his  thoughtless  wife  ;  and 
the  constant  reflection  that  he  might  have 
been  the  happy  father  of  a  blooming  boy, 

c  contributed  to  estrange  his  regard  from  his 
still  lovely,  but  volatile  companion  ;  and 

'  he  often  sought  relief  from  domestic  griev- 
ances in  the  midnight  revels  of  unthinking 
dissipation.  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  instead  of 
endeavouring  torecall  him  to  the  path  of 
reason,  rendered  home  a  continual  scene  of 
misery,  by  imprudent  reproaches,  or  absurd 
lamentations.  Repeated  altercations  blunt- 
ed the  edge  of  affection,  and  except  when 
her  husband  was  surrounded  by  company, 


m, 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  5 

the  smile  of  satisfaction  was  banished  from 
his  countenance,  and  his  whole  character 
seemed  to  have  undergone  a  fatal  alteration. 
The  playful  graces  of  his  little  girl  some- 
times yielded  him  a  momentary  interest 
and  amusement,  for  she  grew  healthy  and 
beautiful,  notwithstanding  the  neglect 
which  she  experienced  from  her  mother ; 
and  Mr.  Grosvenor  could  not  sometimes 
avoid  seriously  reflecting  on  the  injustice 
he  was  guilty  of,  in  permitting  the  mind  of 
his  child  to  remain  so  long  uncultivated. 
Her  mother  either  treated  her  with  unli- 
mited indulgence  or  undue  severity;  for 
moderation  never  marked  the  limits  of  Mrs, 
Grosvenor's  conduct. 

At  length  Mr.  Grosvenor's  health  began 
to  decline;  a  fall  from  his  horse,  when  ri- 
ding home  from  a  convivial  party,  seemed 
to  have  fixed  some  alarming  complaints, 
and  his  constitution  appeared  to  be  injured 
by  bodily  infirmity  and  mental  uneasiness* 
The  child  now  more  seriously  engaged  his 
attention  ;  he  resolved  and  speedily  execu- 
ted a  plan  which  had  only  before  been  cas- 
ually thought  of.  He  immediately  placed 
her  under  the  tuition  of  a  gentlewoman, 
who  was  born  to  better  prospects,  and  who, 
to  ensure  to  herself  independence  and  com- 
fort, took  a  limited  number  of  pupils,  to 
whose  education  and  morals  she  did  ample 
1  ♦ 


6  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

justice  ;  and  when  Emily  Grosvenor  had 
attained  her  fourteenth  year,  the  improve- 
ment of  her  mind  was  truly  gratifying  to 
her  father  ;  and  every  vacation  had  taught 
him  what  an  interesting  object  she  was  be- 
coming to  his  heart.  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  pos- 
sessing no  atfections  beyond  what  self-in- 
terest called  forth,  met  and  parted  with 
her  daughter  with  perfect  indifference  ;  and 
as  Emily  was  very  little  and  delicate  of  hep 
age,  she  hoped  that  school  would  be  her 
abode  for  some  years  to  come. 

Mr.  Grosvenor's  complaints  alarmingly 
increased  ;  indisposition  made  him  irrita- 
ble, and  he  never  could  suppress  his  regret 
that  heaven  had  not  blessed  him  with  a 
son,  as  the  estate  so  long  in  lineal  descent 
would  become,  at  his  death,  the  property 
of  a  very  distant  relation.  Still  he  intend- 
ed to  provide  affluently  for  his  wife  and 
child,  and  wished  to  be  just  in  the  distri- 
bution of  his  fortune  ;  but  procrastinated 
(as  he  termed  it)  the  mournful  employment 
of  making  his  will.  The  physicians  re- 
commended a  change  of  climate  ;  Mrs. 
Grosvenor  seconded  the  idea,  for  to  her 
restless  and  vacant  mind  any  thing  was 
preferable  to  the  dull  monotony  of  domes- 
tic life,  rendered  more  melancholy,  from 
the  state  of  her  husband's  health  ;  she  hoped 
that  Emily  would  never  be  left  independent 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  7 

of  her:  it  suited,  therefore,  her  future  plans, 
to  appear  affected  at  Mr.  Grosvenor's  ill- 
ness, and,  by  every  attention  in  her  power, 
endeavour  to  connteriici  the  unfavourable 
imf)ressions  her  former  conduct  must  have 
made  upon  his  mind. 

Mr.  Grosvenor  often  attempted  to  laugh 
at  the  anxiety  of  his  friends,  and  the  pre- 
scriptions of  his  medical  attendants,  but 
he  at  last  consented  to  try  the  effects  of  a 
more  genial  climate;  and,  when  every  thing 
was  arranged  for  his  departure,  Emily  was 
sent  for  home  to  take  leave  of  her  parents, 
her  father  wisely  determining  to  leave  her 
under  the  care  of  the  amiable  woman  she 
had  been  placed  with. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor,  who  always  had  tears  at 
her  command,  wept  upon  the  bosom  of  her 
daughter,  and  lamented  with  clamorous  sor- 
row that  their  parting  was  inevitable. 

Mr.  Grosvenor^s  feelings  evaporated  not 
in  wofds ;  exhortation  died  upon  his  lips, 
and  he  gave  and  received  in  mournful  si- 
lence the  oft  repeated  and  parting  embrace. 
His  health  remained  so  fluctuating,  that  he 
was  absent  two  years,  and  then  expired,  as 
he  imagined,  in  the  arms  of  a  repentant 
wife.  She  had  succeeded  by  her  art  and 
blandishments  in  every  wish  ;  his  last  will 
was  made  as  she  directed  ;  Emily  was  left 
dependent  on  her  mother!  the  imbecilitv 


»  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

of  Mr.  Grosvenor's  mind  during  the  last 
months  of  his  life,  and  the  specious  argu- 
ments of  his  wife,  had  caused  this  act  of 
folly  and  injustice  ;  and,  from  some  reasons 
which  may  hereafter  be  developed,  she  re- 
mained abroad  six  months  after  the  death 
of  her  husband.  Poor  Emily  had  written 
frequently  to  her  with  all  the  affection  of  a 
daughter  ;  but  young  as  she  was,  she  did 
not  feel  quite  satisfied  with  her  mother's 
laconic  answers.  Still,  as  hope  and  ex- 
pectation ever  agitate  the  elastic  mind  of 
youth,  she  pursued  her  studies  with  avidi- 
ty, and  looked  forward  to  her  mothers  re- 
turn to  England  with  impatient  anxiety. 

At  length  the  expected  period  arrived. 
An  elegant  house,  and  all  things  appro- 
priate, were  in  readiness  for  the  reception 
of  the  widow.  Her  doors  were  soon  open- 
ed to  the  gay  and  inconsiderate,  and  the 
lovely  Mrs.  Grosvenor  became  an  object  of 
attention  in  the  circle  of  fashionable  life. 
The  most  studied  dress,  which  the  slightest 
mourning  could  authorise,  contributed  to 
set  off  the  remains  of  that  beauty  which  it 
had  ever  been  her  study  to  preserve  ;  and 
as  her  fortune  was  reputed  to  be  afflnent, 
she  was  flattered  and  caressed  by  all. — 
Among  the  candidates  for  her  favour,  Sir 
George  Sinclair  was  pre-eminently  distin- 
guished ;  with  a  dissipated  mind  and  ruined 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  9 

i'ortuiie,  he  was  in  constant  debate  with 
himself,  whether  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  money 
would  compensate  for  being  incumbered 
with  her  person.  He,  therefore,  contrived 
to  keep  her  in  suspense  and  uneasiness  on 
the  subject ;  sometimes  playing  the  lover 
to  perfection,  and  sometimes  regarding  her 
with  total  indifference. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor  had  invited  a  distant  re- 
lation to  live  with  her  ;  the  motives  which 
dictated  the  invitation  were  neither  the 
wish  for  lier  society,  nor  the  hope  of  adding 
to  her  comfort.  The  true  spirit  of  liberali- 
ty was  a  stranger  to  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  bo- 
som ;  self  was  the  goddess  of  her  idolatry, 
and  the  weakness  of  intellect  was  only 
counteracted  by  the  despicable  artifices  of 
vanity  and  cunning.  She  detested  any  oc- 
cupation which  brought  with  it  care  or 
trouble;  she  knew  that  a  family  required 
regulation  and  management ;  that  Emily 
must  ere  long  become  an  inmate  of  her 
house,  and  she  calculated  that  this  female 
relation  could  manage  her  domestic  con- 
cerns, and  be  useful  in  the  general  care  of 
her  expected  child,  as  she  always  affected 
to  call  her  absent  daughter. 

Maria  Sandford  soon  became  the  conve- 
nient cousin  and  the  humble  friend,  never 
presuming  to  discover  any  folly  or  impru- 
dence in  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  uncertain  con" 
duct» 


10  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Sir  George  Sinclair  continued  his  usual 
behaviour — to  be  Lady  Sinclair  suited  Mrs. 
Grosvenor's  ambition  ;  and  she  sometimes 
seriously  thought  of  requesting  an  expla- 
nation of  his  sentiments  ;  but  she  dreaded 
the  result  of  such  an  enquiry,  and  content- 
ed herself  with  giving  him  every  possible 
encouragement. 

She  intended  to  keep  Emily  at  school  for 
some  time  longer  ;  but  the  following  letter, 
given  to  her  at  the  moment  of  an  interest- 
ing tete-a-tete  with  Sir  George  Sinclair, 
deranged  her  ideal  plans,  and  obliged  her  to 
receive  Emily  without  delay. 

To  Mrs,  Grosvenor. 

"  Madam, 

"  An  unexpected  event  obliges  me  to 
decline  my  present  occupation.  I  am  un- 
der the  necessity  of  requesting  you  to  re- 
ceive Miss  Grosvenor  immediately,  as  I  am 
compelled  to  leave  England  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible.— I  sincerelv  hope  and  believe  1  have 
performed  the  duty  so  long  entrusted  to  me. 
Your  daughter  is  higfhlv  gifted  by  nature, 
which  has  rendered  iuy  task  easy,  and  her^s 
not  unpleasant.  G^-^ntleness  will  guide  her 
to  all  that  is  amiable  and  ijood  ;  and  that 
she  may  ever  prove  a  blessing  to  you,  and 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  U 

an  ornament  to  society,  is  the  sincere  wish 
of,  "  Madam, 

*'  Your  respectful  and 
"  obedient  servant, 

"  Jane  Mason." 

Mrs.  Grosvenor  read  the  letter  with  great 
perturbation,  and  tossing  it  upon  the  table, 
manifested  so  much  chagrin  and  displeas- 
ure, that  Sir  George  Sinclair,  being  in  one 
of  his  tender  moods,  entreated  to  be  made 
acquainted  with  the  cause  of  her  uneasiness. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor,  wishing  to  appear  in  an 
amiable  light,  instantly  assumed  the  tone 
of  affection,  begging  him  to  excuse  her 
emotions  ;  but  the  idea  of  clasping  a  child 
to  her  bosom,  whom  she  had  not  seen  for 
two  long  years,  was  almost  too  much  for 
her  agitated  spirits ;  "  for  Emily^s  advan- 
tage,'/ she  said,  "  she  had  deprived  herself 
of  every  maternal  comfort  ;"  and  thus  con- 
tinued in  so  overacted  a  strain,  that  Sir 
George  could  hardly  suppress  the  smile  of 
incredulity  ;  and  coolly  requested  to  know 
the  age  of  her  little  girl. 

When  Mrs.  Grosvenor  parted  with  Emily 
she  was  in  her  fourteenth  year,  but  so  deli- 
cate in  her  appearance,  that  she  was  seldom 
thought  more  than  ten  years  of  age,  proba- 
bly forgetting,  or  wishing  to  forget,  the  al- 
teration two  years  might  have  made  in  Emi- 


12  THE  /ATAL  CABINET. 

ly's  person  ;  she  acknowledged  the  child 
was  then  in  her  fourteenth  year ;  and  pro- 
ceeded to  reprobate  the  indiscretion  ofsome 
mothers,  who  introduced  babies  into  scenes 
of  gaiety  and  dissipation.  The  entrance  of 
company  interrupted  this  hypocritical  ha- 
rangue ;  arid  Sir  George  Sinclair  felt  more 
undecided  than  ever  what  line  of  conduct 
to  pursue.  Mrs.  Grosvenor  wrote  to  the 
governess,  and  all  things  were  prepared  for 
the  reception  of  a  girl  of  thirteen  years  old. 
On  the  day  fixed  lor  Emily^s  arrival,  Mrs. 
Grosvenor  and  Maria  were  particularly  en- 
gaged from  home ;  but  the  mother,  wisely 
considering  that  a  child,  after  a  long  fatigu- 
ing journey,  would  be  glad  to  seek  repose, 
fulfilled  her  own  engagements,  and  left  or- 
ders with  the  maid  who  was  hired  to  attend 
on  Emily,  to  persuade  her  to  go  to  bed  im- 
mediately on  her  arrival,  without  any  con- 
ciliating affectionate  excuse  for  not  being 
herself  at  home  to  receive  her.  Emily's 
sorrow  in  parting  with  her  kind  friend  and 
young  companions,  soon  yielded  to  the 
throbbing  anxiety  of  her  heart,  at  the  idea 
of  meeting  her  only  parent,  for  long  had  she 
mourned  the  death  of  a  father — long  had 
she  remembered  their  eventful  parsing  ;  she 
now,  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth, 
painted  the  scene  she  must  go  through,  and 
even  pictured  to  herself  the  flowing  robes 


.THE  FATAL  CABINET.  13 

ot*  widowhood,  and  the  matron-like  graces 
of  affectionate  regret,  on  the  countenance  , 
of  her  suffering  mother.  "  What  a  comfort 
would  she  endeavour  to  be  to  her  !  and 
might  she  be  permitted  to  speak  of  her  la- 
mented father — how  soothing  would  be  the 
reciprocal  voice  of  sympathy  !" 

Such  were  tlie  ideas  that  occupied  her 
mind  till  she  arrived  at  her  mother's  house, 
when,  glowing  with  the  undisguised  emo- 
tions of  genuine  affection,  she,  with  a  step 
of  inq.uietude  and  impatience,  bounded  up 
stairs,  softly  ejaculating,  '•  Where — where 
is  my  mother  !"  The  servants  gave  way  in 
respectful  admiration,  and  naturally  ima- 
gined some  mistake  had  occurred  in  this 
3^oung  lady's  arrival.  The  maid  who  was 
to  be  Emily's  attendant  pressed  forward  ; 
but,  on  a  nearer  view  of  the  elegant  figure 
before  her,  stammered  out  an  apology,  that 
Mrs.  Grosvenor  was  not  at  home,  and  re- 
quested to  know  if  her  little  girl  had  been 
detained  by  any  accident  on  the  road. 

Emily,  good  humourjedly  smiling  said, 
"  She  hoped  they  would  soon  be  better  ac- 
quainted ;  that  her  name  was  Grosvenor  ;" 
and  then  made  the  tenderest  enquiries  after 
the  state  of  her  mother's  health  and  spirits. 

Ashamed  to  offer  to  such  a  young  lady 
the  childish  preparation  for  supper,  the 
maid  lequested  to  know  what  refreshment 

VOL.  I.  2 


14  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

she  would  please  to  order.  Choaked  with 
disappointQient,  the  unbidden  tears  rolled 
down  her  blooming  cheeks;  she  desired  to 
have  tea  immediately,  and  she  would  then 
retire  to  bed.  On  her  pillow  long  did  she 
ruminate  on  the  cause  of  so  uncomfortable 
a  reception  ;  she  had  purposely  omitted  to 
ask  any  question  of  the  servants  in  regard 
to  her  mother^s  engagement,  but  charitably 
concluded  some  indispensable  business  had 
taken  her  from  home,  and,  with  this  natu- 
ral conclusion,  she  fell  asleep,  nor  did  the 
usual  bustle  of  INIrs.  Grosvenor's  return 
disturb  the  serenity  of  her  repose.  The 
mother's  enquiries  after  the  child — of  her 
arrival — and  whether  she  appeared  much 
fatigued,  drew  only  the  most  laconic  an- 
swers from  the  domestics  ;  a  sort  of  stifled 
laugh  agitated  their  features,  and  she  being 
out  of  humour  from  recent  occurrences, 
dismissed  her  own  maid  for  the  night,  with- 
out attempting  to  take  a  view  of  her  sleep- 
ing Emily,  or  without  making  farther  in- 
quiries about  her  appearance  or  stature. 

Maria  Sandford  was  more  curious — she 
stole  to  Emily's  bedside,  and  great  was  her 
surprise  to  behold  a  beautiful  girl,  without 
any  traces  of  that  extreme  juvenility  she 
had  been  taught  to  expect.  As  far  as  she 
could  judge,  Emily  appeared  as  if  she  would 
-prove  a  formidable  rival  in  every  respect. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  <,r3 

When  Emily  was  summoned  to  her  mo- 
therms  dressing-room  in  the  morning,  lan- 
guage is  inadequate  to  describe  their  dif- 
ferent emotions,  and  the  almost  equal  sur- 
prise which  marked  their  respective  fea- 
tures. Emily  was  flying  into  the  arms  of 
her  mother,  but  involuntarily  stopped  with- 
in a  few  yards  of  the  sopha ;  for  she  saw 
there  reclining,  not  the  interesting  figure 
of  suppressed  sorrow,  but  the  elegant  em- 
blem of  taste  and  fashion  ;  not  the  maternal 
cheek  glowing  with  hope  and  fond  expec- 
tation, but  varnished  by  art,  and  eyes  ani- 
mated by  the  astonishment  of  the  moment, 
not  suffused  by  the  tears  of  painful  or  pleas- 
ing agitation. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor  beheld  in  Emily — not 
the  little  delicate  creature  she  had  parted 
with,  but  a  lovely  blooming  girl,  whose 
height  and  figure  gave  every  promise  of  fu- 
ture perfection.  A  profusion  of  auburn 
hair  shaded  the  brilliancy  of  her  beautiful 
hazel  eyes,  the  bloom  of  health  animating 
her  features  with  every  expression  that 
could  interest  a  mother^s  heart,  the  symme- 
try of  her  form  was  more  peculiarly  display- 
ed from  the  scanty  attire  she  wore,  appear- 
ing as  if  she  had  recently  outgrown  the 
garb  of  childhood  ;  her  fine  turned  ancle 
and  arm  were  more  conspicuous  from  this 
circumstance,  than  even  those  of  the  vota- 


Jw  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ries  of  custom  and  of  fashion.  Native  mo- 
desty had  suggested  the  idea  of  veiling  her 
bosom,  and  Emily  stood  before  her  mother 
in  the  attitude  of  expectation,  mingled  with 
ihe  fear  of  disappointment;  then,  timidly 
advancing  to  the  sopha,  she  said,  "  My  dear 
mamma,  how  I  have  longed  to  see  you  !" 

"  I  am  really  so  astonished  at  the  rapid- 
ity of  your  growth,  Emily;  so  totally  un- 
prepared for  the  appearance  of  a  young  wo- 
man (when  I  consider  your  childish  age) 
that  1  hardly  know  in  what  manner  to  ad- 
dress you/^  Emily's  feelings  received  sa 
severe  a  check  from  the  coldness  of  her 
mother's  manner,  that  she  burst  into  tears, 
and  falteringly  said,  "  If  you  do  but  love 
me,  I  shall  be  happy." 

Mrs.  Grosvenor  endeavoured  to  laugh  at 
the  emotions  she  evinced  ;  and,  saluting 
her  glowing  cheek,  introduced  Maria,  en- 
treating them  to  prepare  the  breakfast  im- 
mediateh",  as  she  had  many  engagements 
on  her  list  for  the  morning.  The  conver- 
sation then  turned  upon  dress  and  fashion  ; 
Emily's  ideas  were  bewildered  ;  and  she 
could  hardly  believe  that  this  was  the  meet- 
ing which  she  had  long  looked  to  with 
pleasing  solicitude;  and  consternation  was 
added  to  the  feeling  of  the  moment,  when 
Mrs.  Grosvenor,  suddenly  turning  towards 
iier,  rather  petulantly,  requested  to  know, 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  17 

why  such  a  child  in  years  was  so  wrap- 
ped up  in  an  odious  muslin  handkerchief, 
and  with  no  very  gentle  effort  she  instantly 
removed  the  incumbrance  from  her  neck. 

At  this  instant  Sir  George  Sinclair  was 
announced  ;  Emily,  surprised  at  her  mo- 
ther's action,  and  vexed  and  disconcerted 
at  the  entrance  of  a  stranger,  conceiving  her 
appearance  to  be  highly  indecorous,  was  in 
a  moment  suffused  with  the  blush  of  re- 
sentment and  offended  modesty,  and  with 
the  agility  of  a  school  girl,  she  suddenly 
escaped  from  the  room. 

Sir  George  had  seen  her  sufficiently  to 
discover  that  she  was  formed  in  nature's 
fairest  mould  ;  and  requested  to  know  the 
name  of  such  an  angelic  creature. 

"  If  you  value  the  peace  of  a  mother,  dear 
Sir  George,  do  not  attempt  to  bewilder  the 
ideas  of  my  long-expected  Emily.  She  is 
such  a  mere  child,  that  I  tremble  least  she 
should  give  credit  to  the  detestable  arts  of 
flattery,"  was  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  insidious 
reply. 

Sir  George,  wishing  to  keep  upon  good 
terms,  wvth  this  exemplary  mother,  com- 
plimented her  on  Emily  being  the  lovely 
counterpart  of  herself,  delicately  hinting  his 
surprise  that  Miss  Grosvenor  was  so  remark- 
ably tall  of  her  age,  not  venturing  to  sup- 
pose she  had  attained  her  seventeenth  year. 
2  * 


IS  THE  FATAL  CABINET, 

For  some  time  Emily  was  constantly  se- 
cluded from  company,  and  always  being 
spoken  of  as  a  child,  few  took  the  trouble 
of  inquiring  about  her.  Sir  George  Sin- 
clair's attentions  were  redoubled  to  the 
mother,  politically  encouraging  the  idea  of 
Emily's  extreme  youth,  and  it  chance  ever 
threw  her  in  his  way,  he  thought  himself 
authorised  to  treat  her  with  more  freedom 
than  he  would  have  dared  to  do,  had  her 
age  been  publicly  acknowledged. 

Emily  passed  a  dull  uncomfortable  life  ; 
instead  of  the  tender  endearments  of  mater- 
nal regard,  instead  of  being  properly  intro- 
duced into  company,  she  was  generally  se- 
cluded in  her  own  apartment,  and  confined 
there  when  her  mother's  gay  parties  assem- 
bled in  the  drawing-room.  Her  own  mind 
furnished  her  with  frequent  resources  of 
amusement ;  still  it  was  not  in  nature  for  a 
young  girl,  when  the  sound  of  revelry  caught 
lier  ear,  not  to  wish  to  be  sometimes  admit- 
ted to  partake  of  its  gaiety,  nor  could  her 
penetration  discover  why  she  was  continu- 
ally secluded. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor  had  never  mentioned 
her  husband's  name  ;  Emily  often  pondered 
over  and  wept  at  this  omission,  but  she  had 
not  resolution  to  begin  the  affecting  sub- 
ject, and  time  dully  glided  on,  frequently 
i  occasioning  her  vain  regrets,  that  she  had 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  rj 

left  her  beloved  governess,  and  her  equally- 
dear  coinpani(tns. 

Just  at  this  period,  a  letter  which  she  re- 
ceived from  a  srhooi-fellow,  whose  family 
residerl  within  a  lew  streets  of  her  mother's 
house,  afforded  her  comfort,  and  eventually 
that  variety  she  so  naturally  wished  tor. 

In  the  first  year  ot  Emily's  beingat  school. 
Miss  Fitsmorton  manitested  tor  her  the 
most  flattering  partiality,  and  being  nearly 
two  years  her  senior,  possessed  the  power, 
as  well  as  the  inclination,  to  be  both  her 
protectress  and  her  friend.  She,  however, 
left  school  some  time  before  Emily,  and  was 
just  now  returned  home  from  a  visit  in  the 
country,  and  hearing  that  her  friend  was 
settled  at  home,  she  delayed  not  to  send 
her  the  above-mentioned  letter.  Scarcely 
a  day  now  passed  but  Emily  and  Mary 
Fitsmorton  were  to;>ether.  Mrs.  Grosve- 
nor  felt  relieved  that  her  daughter  could  be 
so  much  domesticated  in  a  respectable  fani" 
ily,  and  took  it  for  granted,  that  she  asso- 
ciated with  people  both  amiable  and  good. 

The  winter  passed  pleasantly.  Mrs. 
Fitsmorton  was  a  charming  woman,  endow- 
ed with  every  good  quality  of  the  head  and 
the  heart;  and  the  lovely  neglected  Emily 
could  not  but  with  pain  draw  an  unpleasant 
comparison  between  her  and  her  own  dis- 
sipated mother. 


so  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

It  required  much  art  and  management  for 
Sir  George  Sinclair  to  keep  on  good  terms 
with  Mrs.  Grosvenor;  her  fortune  was  the 
magnet  of  attraction,  but  Emily's  youth 
and  beauty  had  deeply  impressed  him  with 
admiration,  and  although  before  her  mother 
he  affected  to  treat  her  as  a  child,  he  never 
let  pass  any  opportunity  to  whisper  in  her 
ear  the  impassioned  language  of  admiration 
and  flattery ;  and  had  Emily  been  indepen- 
dent of  her  mother,  she  might  have  receiv- 
ed an  open  avowal  of  his  passion,  but  pru- 
dential motives  swayed  the  Baronet,  and 
all  things  passed  on  much  as  usual  till  the 
commencement  of  the  ensuing  winter, 
when  Sir  George  Sinclair  altered  his  be- 
haviour towards  Emily.  His  pecuniary  dis- 
tresses became  pressing,  and  though  madly 
in  love  with  the  daughter,  something  like 
a  declaration  of  regard  had  been  made  to 
the  mother,  who  endeavoured  to  appear 
satisfied  with  its  sincerity.  Policy,  there- 
fore, now  induced  him  to  treat  Emily  with 
respectful  attention,  claiming  the  privilege 
of  future  relationship  to  authorise  the 
friendly  sentiments  he  expressed.  Emily 
was  pleased  at  the  change  in  his  conduct ; 
she  had  always  parried  his  flattery  by  turn- 
ing it  into  ridicule,  but  sometimes  thought 
his  b€haviour  to  her  mother  both  ambigu- 
ous and  extraordinary,  and  was  much  as- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  21 

tonished  at  the  partiality  which  Mrs.  Gros- 
venor  evinced  for  Sir  George  Sinclair,  for 
she  romantically  thought  that,  from  their 
disparity  of  years,  little  happiness  could  be 
expected  from  their  union  ;  and,  with  many 
sighs  to  the  memory  of  her  father,  she  felt 
it  strange  that  he  should  be  so  soon  forgot- 
ten. 

With  all  Mrs.  Grosvenor*s  art  and  man- 
agement, it  was  now  impossible  to  prevent 
Emily's  introduction  to  some  of  her  ac- 
quaintance,andamore  improper  circle  could 
hardly  be  selected  for  a  young  vvoman  just 
entering  into  life.  High  play,  and  every 
species  of  amusement  which  could  fascinate 
the  senses  or  mislead  the  judgment  were 
countenanced  by  this  weak  ill-judging  wo- 
man. 

As  soon  as  the  novelty  of  these  scenes 
was  over,  Emily  wished  again  to  be  domes- 
ticated in  Mr.  Fitsmorton's  family  ;  ration- 
ality, as  far  as  existing  circumstances  would 
permit,  marked  there  the  progress  of  the 
day.  In  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  she  ever  found  a 
sincere  friend  and  a  faithful  adviser,  ready 
to  promote  the  innocent  pleasures  of  life, 
but  scrupulously  rigid  in  preserving  their 
proper  boundaries.  Music,  dancing,  work- 
ino:,  and  reading,  passed  the  hours  of  socia- 
bility in  this  domestic  circle;  but  as  in  f'v- 
ery  family  there  is  some  dark  shade  to  cloud 


22  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

its  brightest  prospects,  it  may  not  be  unin^ 
teresting  to  give  a  brief  account  of  its  pre= 
sent  and  former  situation. 


CHAP.  IL 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  was  early  married, 
without  her  choice,  and  certainly  without 
her  inclination.  She  would  have  assimila- 
ted with  the  pursuits  of  her  husband,  but 
the  moroseness  of  his  temper  ever  prevent- 
ed that  cordiality  so  necessary  to  the  hap- 
piness of  a  female  mind;  and  shecouid  on- 
ly, by  the  most  prudent  management,  and 
the  disposition  of  an  angel,  soften  the  mis- 
eries which  threatened  her.  The  arrange- 
ments of  domestic  life  seldom  interested 
Mr.  Fitsmorton ;  gaiety  overpowered  his 
spirits,  and  general  society  was  oppressive 
and  troublesome.  His  meals,  even  his 
very  dress,  were  often  great  sources  of  in- 
quietude, and  no  professor  of  the  culinary 
art  ever  took  more  pains  to  arrive  at  perfec- 
tion, than  did  his  exemplary  wife  in  the 
directive  department  of  her  table.  They 
were  blessed  with  a  son  and  daughter,  who, 
from  their  v^ery  infancy,  feared  iheir  father 
and  idolized  their  mother.     Edward  Fits- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  -3 

rnorton  was  a  few  years  older  than  his  sis- 
ter, and  soon  selected  from  the  female 
groupe  he  had  been  introduced  to  by  his 
mother,  a  lovely  young  woman  of  good  fam- 
ily and  fortune,  to  whom  he  became  so 
truly  attached,  that,  after  overcoming  some 
difficulties,  they  were  happily  united.  The 
birth  of  a  daughter  seemed  to  increase  their 
felicity,  and  even  the  austerity  of  Mr.  Fits- 
morton's  temper  appeared  in  some  measure 
to  relax,  when  witnessing  the  harmony  of 
his  children.  Mary  lived  at  her  brother's 
house  almost  as  much  as  she  did  at  home  ; 
the  child  was  her  delight  and  her  fondest 
darling,  and  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  seemed  re- 
compensed for  former  inquietudes.  When 
the  infant  was  about  three  months  old,  Ed- 
ward Fitsmorton  was  seized  with  a  conta- 
gious fever,  which  seemed  to  baffle  the 
power  of  medical  skill;  but,  after  a  long 
and  painful  struggle,  he  recovered,  to  the 
joy  and  happiness  of  all  around  him. 

Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton,  from  fatigue 
and  anxiety,  had  been  obliged  to  wean  her 
little  girl,  and  this  fond,  this  affectionate 
wife,  fell  a  martyr  to  her  attendance  on  the 
bed  of  sickness. 

To  dwell  on  the  scenes  which  followed, 
-were  a  painful  and  unnecessary  task.  Ed- 
ward Fitsmorton  deplored  his  loss,  either 
in  the  wild  effusions  of  frantic  grief,  or  in 


S4  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

the  dreadful  calmness  of  apathy  and  appa^ 
rent  inditfcrence. 

Miss  Fiismorton  was  inconsolable,  and 
lamented  vvith  unavailing  sorrow  the  loss  of 
her  dear  and  beloved  companion. — Indeed 
so  fixed  a  dejection  overpowered  her  spir- 
its, that  no  usual  occupation  could  interest 
or  arouse  the  faculties  of  her  mind,  except 
attending  to  the  infant  and  her  brother. 
Gradual  was  the  recovery  of  his  intellectual 
powers ;  and  in  gratitude  to  the  solicitude 
of  his  mother  and  friends,  he  attempted  to 
pursue  his  avocations ;  and  at  in»^ervals  to 
join  the  family  circle;  but  still  he  thought 
happiness  was  fled  for  ever ;  and  the  bloom- 
ing graces  of  Mary  Dalrymple,  and  her  en- 
dearing conduct  as  a  wife  and  mother,  were 
remembered  with  the  feelings  of  despair, 
when  reflecting  on  the  sad  change  a  few 
short  months  had  made  in  his  prospects. 

When  Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton  had  been 
dead  nearly  twelve  months,  Emily  Grosve- 
nor  was  first  introduced  into  the  family. 
Miss  Fiismorton  was  still  dejected,  and 
frequent  fits  of  abstraction  and  melancholy 
overpowered  Edward  Fitsmorton's  deeply 
wounded  mind.  Emily  esteemed  and  ho- 
noured him  for  such  tender  proofs  of  at- 
tachment, and  by  every  delicate  attention 
in  her  power  she  endeavoured  to  tranquil- 
lize his  agitated  spirits.     She  would  some- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  25 

times,  unbidden,  play  over  bis  favourite 
lessons,  or  intreat  his  assistance  in  the  fin- 
ishing of  some  landscape  or  painting,  and 
was  gay  or  grave,  as  the  humour  of  his  mind 
prevailed.  His  little  girl  soon  distinguish- 
ed her  with  peculiar  regard,  which  was  a 
very  pleasing  gratification  to  Emily's  affec- 
tionate heart.  Mr.  Fitsmorton's  gloomy 
austerity  of  manner  sometimes  interrupted 
the  harmony  of  the  evening  ;  and  Emily 
fancied  that  her  attentions  to  him  were  not 
so  pleasing  as  upon  their  first  acquaintance  ; 
for  she  had  often  ventured  to  rally  him  into 
good  humour.  When  music  made  his  head 
ache — dancing  was  too  noisy  ;  and  he  de- 
clared drawing  precluded  conversation  ;  yet 
when  Emily  was  absent  (as  she  was  some- 
times obliged  to  attend  her  mother's  par- 
ties) Edward  was  more  gloomy  than  usual, 
and  Mary  silently  dejected. 

To  the  great  surprise  of  Emily,  Mrs. 
Grosvenor  requested  one  morning  that  she 
would  accompany  her  in  the  chariot,  if  she 
could  spare  time  from  the  new  friends  that 
so  much  engrossed  her  attention. 

"  Had  I  known.  Madam,"  (Emily  an- 
swered) "  that  you  ever  wished  for  my  com- 
pany, all  engagements  should  have  been 
suspended." 

"  Very  dutifully  spoken.  Miss  Grosve- 
nor :  ae  shall  soon  be  convinced  if  your  fu- 

vnr..  r.  <? 


-6  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ture  actions  correspond  with  your  present 
professions.  The  chariot  will  be  at  the 
door  in  half  an  hour.  I  have  somethinof  of 
consequence  to  communicate  to  you." 

Emily  felt  disappointed;  she  was  that 
morning  engaged  with  her  friend,  Mary 
Fitsmorton.  Edward  had  been  much  out 
of  spirits  the  preceding  evening,  and  had 
promised  he  would  read  some  favourite  au- 
thor, whilst  they  were  finishing  a  set  of 
cambric  frocks,  which  they  had  voluntarily 
undertaken  to  make  for  his  little  girl. 

When  seated  in  the  carriage  with  her 
mother,  Mrs.  Grosvenor  thus  addressed  her: 

"  I  have  long  indulged  you,  Emily,  in 
the  choice  and  pursuit  of  your  own  avoca- 
tions and  amusements,  and  I  wish  serious- 
ly to  ask  you,  who  these  people  are,  that 
seem  to  have  rivalled  me  in  your  affection. 

"  I  hear,  from  very  good  authority,  that 
you  are  receiving  the  attentions  of  the  dis- 
consolate widower,  if  you  have  not  already 
carried  on  with  him  a  clandestine  corres- 
pondence." 

Emily's  colour  heightened — astonish- 
ment for  a  moment  kept  her  silent  ;  but 
fearing  her  confusion  would  be  construed 
into  an  avowal  of  the  fact,  she  replied  : — 

"  Whoever  has  fabricated  and  imposed 
upon  j-ott  such  a  story,  is  neither  your 
friend  nor  mine  :  I  deny  not.  Madam,  my 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  87 

attachment  to  the  family ;  but  to  have  suf- 
fered a  clandestine  correspondence  with 
Mr.  Edward  Fitsmorton,  is  so  highly  im- 
probable, that  1  cannot  believe  you  give 
credit  to  the  information. — He  is  so  truly 
attached  to  the  memory  of  his  wife,  that  a 
second  love  will  never  agitate  his  bosom." 

"  And  you  positively  and  unequivocally 
deny  your  regard  for  this  extraordinary  and 
immaculate  gentleman  !" 

"  No,  Madam,  I  do  not  deny  ray  regard; 
I  love  him  almost  as  well  as  1  love  his  sis- 
ter." 

"  A  tolerably  bold  declaration  for  so 
young  a  girl  to  make  ;  and  you  do  not  then 
suppose  he  loves  you  as  well  as  he  loves 
his  sister  ?" 

Emily  blushed  and  hesitated  :  Mrs. 
Grosvenor  had  wandered  from  the  point, 
and  added — 

"  If  he  would  marry  you,  do  you  think 
your  sisterly  affection  could  refuse  the  ho- 
nour?" 

"  With  truth  I  can  affirm — I  have  never 
debated  with  myself  on  the  subject :  I  think 
I  shall  never  have  the  trial ;  in  all  probabil- 
ity Mr.  Edward  Fitsmorton  will  not  marry 
again." 

"  Well  then,  Emily,  I  much  rejoice  to 
find  1  have  been  mistaken.  I  am  now  go- 
ing to  put  your  sincerity  to  the  test,  as  you 


■n  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

confess  that  your  heart  is  disengaged.  Rank 
and  wealth  court  your  acceptance,  nor  can 
I  have  the  least  doubt  of  your  ready  acqui- 
escence to  my  wishes." 

"  I  hardly  comprehend  your  meaning, 
Madam." 

*'  Affected  simplicity  cannot  impose 
upon  me ;  you  must  imagine  1  mean  mar- 
riage. 

"  Lord  Sedley  made  proposals  to  me  in 
form  on  your  account,  and  will  this  after- 
noon declare  himself  to  you." 

"  To  prevent  such  unnecessary  trouble, 
pray,  Madam,  let  him  receive  through  you, 
my  acknowledgments  for  the  honour  he 
intends  me,  feut  I — " 

"  Have  a  care,  Emily,  let  not  an  unwar- 
rantable prejudice  shade  the  brilliant  career 
which  is  opening  to  your  view.  You  are 
not  now  to  be  told  that  your  father  wisely 
left  you  dependant  upon  me, 

"  I  have  such  views  and  expectations  for 
my  future  life,  that  must  prevent  your  es- 
tablishment from  my  fortune." 

"  My  father,  Madam,  only  wished  you 
to  be  Justin  its  distribution." 

"  Hov*^  dare  you  mention  a  name  which 
always  fills  my  bosom  with  unutterable 
grief;  ill  should  I  repay  his  generous  confi- 
dence, if  I  permitted  the  caprice  of  a  way- 
ward girl  to   reject  the  splendour  which 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  29 

awaits  her.  Remember,  I  will  not  be  tri- 
fled with  ;  receive  Lord  Sedley  as  your  fu- 
ture h  usband,  or  tremble  at  my  displeasure.^' 

Emily  could  hardly  command  her  feelings 
at  the  tiarsical  part  her  mother  was  acting, 
and  almost  involuntarily  she  exclaimed — 

*'  Surely,  Madam,  some  mistake  has  oc- 
curred in  this  affair;  Lord  Sedley  must 
mean  to  make  proposals  to  yourself;  as  my 
father-in-law,  J  would  endeavour  to  respect 
him.^' 

"  The  satire  of  your  manner,  Miss  Gros- 
venor,  is  not  overlooked;  but,  mark  me, 
Emily,  if  you  refuse  Lord  Sedley's  addres- 
ses, I  am  no  longer  your  mother." 

"  I  wish  to  obey  you,  Madam,  in  every 
reasonable  command  ;  but  I  will  never  be- 
come the  wife  of  Lord  Sedley." 

She  then  bore  in  silence  all  the  violence 
of  her  mother's  reproaches,  nor  endeavour- 
ed to  stem  their  torrent  by  the  shadow  of  a 
compromise,  and  on  her  return  home  was 
assailed  on  the  subject  by  Maria,  who,  pur- 
posely tutored  by  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  endeav- 
oured to  point  out  the  various  advantaoes 
of  becoming  a  countess;  diamonds,  pearls, 
and  carriages,  were  placed  in  splendid  array- 
before  the  inattentive  Emily;  who,  absorb- 
ed in  her  own  reflections,  was  only  aroused 
by  Miss  Sandford  confirming  the  suspicion, 
that  Mrs.  Grosvenor  would  shortly  become 


3* 


30  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Lady  Sinclair.  Emily  was  obliged  to  give 
many  hints  that  she  wished  to  be  alone,  ere 
this  weak-minded  young  woman  took  her 
leave ;  and  then  sad,  indeed,  were  her  soli- 
tary reflections! — She  was  dependant" on 
her  mother  ;  she  was  threatened  with  be- 
coming the  wife  of  a  man  she  detested,  and 
might  probably  be  torn  from  the  society  of 
friends  who  had  of  late  constituted  her 
whole  felicity  ;  but,  like  most  young  minds, 
though  hers  gave  way  to  the  momentary 
feelings  of  despair,  it  as  soon  recovered  its 
native  elasticity.  Her  good  governess,  Mrs. 
Mason,  had  ever  by  precept  and  example 
inculcated  the  necessity  of  a  proper  exer- 
tion of  fortitude  and  resolution  on  every 
occasion,  and  Emily  began  now  to  experi- 
ence its  salutary  effects.  She  determined 
that  no  human  power  should  force  her  to 
marry  Lord  Sedley.  She  would  consult 
Mrs.  Fitsmorton  on  the  subject,  and  with 
feelings  of  the  deepest  regret  she  again  drew 
the  comparison  of  the  different  characters 
of  Mary's  mother  and  her  own. 

When  summoned  to  dinner.  Lord  Sedley, 
appearing  like  the  destroyer  of  her  late 
happy  prospects,  he  was  treated  by  her  with 
proud  indifference. — In  vain  the  displeas- 
ure of  her  mother's  countenance,  in  vain 
the  flattering  compliments  of  the  enamour- 
ed peer. — She  remained  provokingly  silent. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  n-t 

only  planning  some  scheme  to  escape  the 
dreaded  declaration.     By  her  mother's  con- 
trivance a   t^te-a-tete  was    accomplished. 
Bat  not  to  dwell  on  the  common-place  de- 
clarations of  Lord  Sedley's  unalterable  pas- 
sions, or  the  many  inducements  he  held 
out — 'of  rank,  wealth,  and  power,  over  his 
idolizing  heart,  or  how  she  endeavoured  to 
restrain   the  contempt  and   impatience  of 
her  feelings,  when  she  decisively  refused 
the   honours  and  advantages  he  intended 
her.     Suffice  it  to  say,  that  no  power  can 
describe  the  astonishment  of  Lord  Sedley, 
that  his  splendid  offers  were  slighted  by  a 
girl  dependant  on  her  mother,  and  unknown 
in  the  fashionable  world  ! — Desperately  in 
1  love  with  her  person,  he  could  not  conceal 
'  his  mortification  ;  but,  knowing  well  Mrs. 
'  Grosvenor's  character,  he  resolved  to  de- 
;  pend  on  her  management  tor  the  accom- 
plishment of  his  hopes,  and  rudely  and  im- 
1  passionately  seizing  Emily's  hand,  he  con- 
ifessed  "she  was  too  young  to  know  her 
I  own  mind  ;  that  the  romance  of  hep  present 
determination  added  the  charm  of  simplici- 
ty to  her  character  ;  that  she  was  too  emi- 
nently beautiful  to  tread  the  common  path 
of  life  ;  but  when  she  became  the  countess 
of  Sedley,  every  distinction  an   admiring 
world  could  bestow,  would  exclusively  ir- 
Tadiate  her  steps."-    Then,  gazing  stedfastly 
iii  her  countenance,  he  added — 


34  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

"  With  a  face  so  fair, 

*'  Fairer  far  than  painting  can  expreSs  ;" 

And  he  was  proceed  in  2;  in  this  very  ridicu- 
lous stile,  when  Emily,  provoked  at  the 
freedom  of  his  manner,  and  at  the  general 
tenor  of  his  language,  interrupted  him,  by 
laconically  adding — 

*'  Or  youthful  poets  fancy 
"  When  they  love." 

And  the  peculiar  emphasis  she  laid  on  the 
word  youthful,  disconcerted,  as  she  wished 
it  should,  her  venerable  admirer;  and  they 
parted,  on  her  side,  with  real  disgust,  and 
on  his,  with  a  determination  not  to  relin- 
quish his  suit ;  because  she  was  too  young 
to  know  her  own  mind.  Of  libertine  prin- 
ciples, in  every  sense  of  the  word;  Lord 
Sedley  had  never  before  resolved  to  marry, 
and  this  repulse  to  his  vanity  was  both 
surprising  and  unexpected. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor's  rage  and  indignation 
■v*'ere  without  bounds  :  Emily  was  confined 
to  her  own  apartment,  denied  the  society 
of  her  best  beloved  friends,  and  only  sup- 
ported by  that  hope,  "springing  eternally 
in  the  human  mind  ;"  and  which,  when 
founded  on  the  sacred  principles  of  religion, 
will  mitigate  the  bitterness  of  every  trial 
or  unpleasant  situation  in  life. 

Sir  George  Sinclair  was  the  primary  cause 
of  her  present  distress.     Her  beauty  had 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  3» 

;  awakened  his  serious  admiration,  and  great 
was    the   struggle   he    experienced,  when 

i feigning  a  passion  for  the  mother,  which 
his  heart  felt  was  only  due  to  her  fascina- 

iting  daughter.     He  was  a  professed  gam- 

ihlw,  and  practised  in  every  species  of  de- 
pravity ;  but  hypocrisy  had  yet,  in  some 
measure,  concealed  his  vices  ;  he  was  well; 
received  in  society,  and  courted  by  an  in- 
discriminating  world. 

Could  he  flatter  himself  that  Emily  re- 

Igarded  him  with  partiality,  the  rapture  of 
the  thought  would  have  set  aside  all  pru- 
dential motives,  and  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  re- 

iproaches  would  have  been  alike  disregar- 
ded ;  but  even  his  vanity  could  not  encour- 
age such  an  illusion.  Emily  treated  him 
as  her  heart  dictated  before  and  after  his 
declaration  to  her  mother.  He  had  some 
acquaintance  with  Edward  Fitsmorton  ;  he 

"well  knew  that  pity  was  oftentimes  allied 

1  to  love  ;  and,  from  various  circumstances, 
he  began  to  fear  that  friendship  commenc- 

I  ed  in  sympathy  and  sorrow  might  end  in 
love  and  joy.  To  see  Emily  the  wife  of 
Edward  Fitsmorton,  was  an  insupportable 
idea  ;  but  to  see  her  the  wife  of  age  and  in- 
firmity, might  second  his  nefarious  views  ; 
and  could  he  avoid  the  marriage  with  her 
mother,  lead  her,  on  easy  but  dishonoura- 
ble terms,  to  his  arms.     He  ever  pretended 


34  THE  FATAL  CABINET.  | 

to  reprobate  the  cruelty  of  Mrs.  Grosvenor's 
proceedings,  and  took  every  opportunity  of 
ingratiating  himself  with  the  unsuspecting 
Emily ;  for  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  deceived  by 
his  semblance  of  sincerity,  permitted  him 
free  access  to  Emily's  dressing-room,  ftiat 
he  might  use  every  argument  and  persua- 
sion to  induce  her  cheerfully  to  comply 
with  the  proposals  of  Lord  Sedley.  In  the 
most  conciliating  language,  with  a  manner 
tender  and  respectful,  he  often  availed  him- 
selfof  this  permission;  and  he  daily  improv- 
ed in  Emily's  good  opinion,  though  she 
could  never  be  reconciled  to  the  idea  of  his 
marriage  with  her  mother,  on  account  of 
the  great  disparity  of  their  years,  and  the 
incongeniality  of  sentiment  she  had  fearful- 
ly observed  between  them.  Her  opinions 
and  sentiments  were  those  of  nature  and  of 
reason,  and  she  drew  the  standard  of  others 
actions  and  feelings  by  the  simple  rectitude 
of  her  own. 

Miss  Fitsmorton  began  to  feel  uneasy  at 
Emily's  continued  absence,  and  fearing  ill- 
ness was  the  cause,  she  gained  permission 
of  her  mother  to  make  her  enquiries  in  per- 
son, for  the  general  dissipation  of  Mrs.  Gros- 
venor's  house  had  hitherto  precluded  inti- 
macy there.  Emily  was  denied  to  her 
friend,  who  thfn  requested  to  see  Mrs. 
Grosvenor  or  Miss  Sandford.     The  latter 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  3S 

joon  attended  her,  and  invented  a  most 
plausible  story  of  Emily's  undutiful  con- 
Juct,  of  the  great  kindness  and  considera- 
tion of  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  in  selecting  so  ad- 
vantageous a  match  for  her  daughter  ;  and 
?nded  the  prolix  history,  by  descanting  on 
Emily's  ingratitude  m  refusing  to  become 
I  countess. 

Mary  could  hardly  suppress  a  smile  at 
;he  weakness  and  simplicity  of  this  ac- 
count ;  and,  after  pleading  m  vain  for  an  in- 
iervievi^  with  her  friend,  was  obliged  to 
eave  the  house  without  any  further  satis- 
action.  She  too  well  knew  Emily's  prin- 
ciples and  resolution,  to  fear  that  she  would 
iver  consent  to  become  LordSedley's  wife  ; 
md  often  had  he  been  held  up  in  ridicule 
)y  these  blooming  associates,  for  the  unbe- 
loming  levity  of  his  manners,  and  for  his 
'ain  pretensions  to  youth  and  vivacity. 
Often  had  Mary  breathed  an  imperfect 
vish,  that  her  brother  might  at  some  future 
leriod  think  of  Emily  in  a  tenderer  point 
)f  view,  though  hitherto  she  couid  not  flat- 
er  herself  that  his  attentions  proceeded 
rom  aught  but  virtuous  friendship;  and 
ilmily,  she  well  knew,  could  not  be  lightly 
von  or  satisfied,  but  with  an  undivided 
leart. 

When  she  returned  home,  the  family 
tarty  was  assembled  in  the  drawing-room, 


26  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

and  Mary  declared  she  had  wonderful  news 
to  impart.  Emily,  our  dear  Emily,  is  go- 
ing to  be  married. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  looked  incredulous  ; 
Mr.  Fitsmorton  hoped  it  was  a  good  match; 
and  Edward,  hastily  puttuig  down  his  lit- 
tle girl  from  his  arms,  opened  the  window 
as  if  in  fear  of  suffocation,  at  the  same  time 
expressing  his  wishes  for  her  happiness. 
Mary  then  mentioned  Sir  George  Sinclair 
as  the  favoured  man. — Edward  bit  his  lip, 
and  the  old  gentleman  wished  to  know 
how  the  transfer  was  so  easily  made  from 
the  mother  to  the  daughter  ?  That  it  was 
a  very  bad  match  for  Emily,  and  that  he 
acted  like  a  madman,  to  marry  a  girl  with- 
out a  shilling  of  her  own,  for  we  all  know 
what  dependance  may  be  placed  upon  her 
mother's  fortune. 

Dinner  at  this  moment  was  announced, 
and  the  unfortunate  event  of  a  fine  cod's 
head  being  overboiled,  so  totally  disarrang- 
ed the  good  humour  of  the  hour,  ihat  Ma- 
ry did  not  pursue  the  subject  during  the 
repeated  con)))laints  of  her  father,  who  de- 
clared he  would  in  future  dine  at  a  tavern; 
he  would  discharge  the  cook  ;  he  would 
recommend  every  mistress  of  a  family  to 
understand  the  theory  of  cooking.  In  short, 
he  made  every  one  so  completely  uncom- 
fortable, that  the  moment  deeency  would 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  37 

permit,  Edward  took  up  his  hat  and  left 
the  house,  u  remedy  he  always  adopted  in 
any  family  altercation.  Mary,  wishing  to 
change  her  father's  ideas,  seriously  describ- 
ed Emily's  situation.  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  ex- 
pressed her  sorrow  and  pity. 

"  Sorrow  and  pity,  forsooth,"  (interrup- 
ted her  husband)  "  for  what?  for  the  pros- 
pect of  being-  splendidly  settled  for  life  ? 
The  girl  is  a  simpleton,  and  does  not  know 
her  own  interest.  Unconditional  obedi- 
ence is  what  every  parent  has  a  right  to 
expect.  I  should  like  to  see  a  child  of 
mine  refuse  such  an  offer." 

Mary  encountered  her  father's  eye,  and 
the  blush  that  suffused  her  countenance 
did  not  escape  her  Another's  observation. 

When  Edward  was  assured  of  Mary's 
intended  mistake  of  the  man  to  whom  Emi- 
ly was  to  be  united,  a  satisfaction,  almost 
surprising  to  himself,  stole  over  his  mind  ; 
for  he  was  convinced  she  would  not  marry 
a  man  old  enough  to  be  her  grandfather  ; 
but  of  Sir  George  Sinclair,  he  would  have 
had  less  doubt ;  handsome  and  insinuating, 
her  Vancy  might  have  been  enslaved  with- 
out the  concurrence  of  her  deliberate  judg- 
niiMit ;  and  Sir  George  Sinclair  was  assur- 
edly not  the  man  he  v/ould  have  chosen 
for  an  husband,  either  for  her  or  for  his 
sister.     Having   thus  quietly   settled   this 

VOL.  I.  4 


SB  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

point  to  his  own  saiisfaction,  he  recurred 
to  past  scenes  of  happiness,  and  mourned 
their  eternal  loss.  Nature  had  blessed  him 
with  a  heart  susceptible  of  every  good  im- 
pression, and  the  early  instructions  of  his 
mother  had  cultivated  with  great  success 
every  opening  virtue  ;  and  the  moral  pre- 
cepts which  were  inculcated  as  he  advanc- 
ed in  years,  stamped  on  his  mind  an  in- 
delible abhorrence- of  the  deliberate  pur- 
isuits  of  vice  and  loWy.  Had  his  father 
been  a  man  whom  he  could  have  consider- 
ed as  a  friend  and  companion,  even  the 
errors  of  juvenile  indiscretion  had,  in  all 
probability,  been  avoided  ;  but  Edward 
-early  distinguished  that  his  father's  pres- 
•ence  was  generally  an  awful  restraint  in 
the  domestic  or  convivial  circle.  At  the 
time  he  first  saw  Miss  Dalrymple,  he  had 
resolved  to  break  through  the  unnecessary 
shackles  of  parental  authority  ;  and  he  was 
just  yielding  to  the  fiiscinating  prospects 
which  the  first  emancipation  from  restraint 
holds  forth,  when  beauty,  love,  and  merit, 
prevented  the  unthinking  career,  in  the  be- 
witching form  of  Mary  Dalrymple  !  Both 
parents  had  different  views  for  their  chil- 
dren, but  the  young  people  coming  to  an 
explanation  of  their  sentiments,  every  thing 
was  settled  to  the  tolerable  satisfaction  of 
all  parties. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  '     if} 

Miss  Daliymple  was  intended  for  a  ward 
of  her  father's,  who  went  to  India  six 
months  after  her  marriage,  happy  in  the 
assured  friendship  and  esteem  of  JNIr.  and 
Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton. 

Mr.  Fitsmorton  wished  to  guide  the  at- 
t'tenlion  of  his  son  to  a  young  and  lively 
heiress;  and  he  did  not  despair  but  that 
time  and  management  would  now  unite 
them  ;  for  the  affluent  fortune  Miss  Travers 
possessed,  would  prove  a  most  convenient 
auxiliary  to  the  finances  of  the  family,  but 
of  course  this  idea  was  only  encouraged  by 
Edward  Fitsmorton's  father. 

The  domestic  parties  in  Mrs.  Fitsmor- 
ton's drawing-room,  had  lately  proved  very 
dull  and  uninteresting  to  her  son.  Emily's 
artless  attentions,  her'endeavours  to  amuse 
him,  her  gratification  when  successful  ;  and 
her  silent,  but  expressive  regret,  when  the 
depression  of  his  spirits  would  not  yield  to 
her  exertions,  being  suddenly  withdrawn, 
he  soon  sought,  in  the  gayer  scenes  of  dis- 
sipation, relief  from  his  various  and  con- 
tending feelings. 

Emily  was  still  a  prisoner  in  her  mother's 
house.  Miss  Sandford  and  Sir  George  Sin- 
clair were  her  only  visitants.  The  former 
was  the  echo  of  her  mother's  commands, 
and  the  latter  was  daily  gaining  hec  confi- 
dence, and  rising  in  her  good  opinion. — 


49-  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Sometimes  he  would  condole  with  her  oq 
the  severity  of  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  conduct, 
and  endeavour  to  alleviate  the  dulness  of 
her  situation  by  every  attention  and  means 
in  his  power ;  and  if  at  any  time  thrown  off 
his  guard  by  her  fascinating  expressions  of 
gratitude,  he  would  immediately  assume  an 
almost  parental  tenderness  of  manner  ;  and 
solemnly  aver,  that  the  moment  Mrs.  Gros- 
venor  gave  him  a  title  to  protect  her,  he 
would  exert  it  to  the  utmost  of  his  power; 
artfully  insinuating,  that  the  day  was  near- 
ly fixed  for  the  long  desired  event. 

To  Mrs.  Grosvenor  he  expressed  little 
doubt  but  that  time  would  gain  Emily's  free 
consent  to  the  match  ;  and  Mrs.  Grosvenor, 
in  her  turn,  deceived  Lord  Sedley  with  the 
same  assurance;  promising  that  maternal 
authority  should  interpose  if  milder  meth- 
ods proved  unsuccessful.  Lord  Sedley, 
whose  love  sprang  only  from  the  source  of 
a  libertine  inclination,  was  little  solicitous 
how  he  obtained  the  hand  of  Emily,  if 
eventually  secure  of  it,  her  personal  attrac- 
tions would  render  him  the  envy  of  all ;  and 
he  imagined  her  youth  and  inexperience 
would  timidly  yield  to  the  caprices  of  his 
temper. 

Some  recent  circumstances  in  the  annals 
of  gal]"ntry,  induced  him  to  resolve  to  tra- 
vel immeiliately  after  their  marriage;  and 


this  idea,  joined  to  his  convenient  declara- 
tion, that  he  would  take  Emily  without  a 
fortune,  were  the  grand  and  interesting  rea- 
sons tor  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  perseverance  in 
his  favour. 

Sir  George  Sinclair  continued  to  improve 
the  opportunities  of  increasing  Emily's  es- 
teem, nor  could  he  have  more  conciliated 
her  favour,  than  in  contriving  to  give  her 
the  following  letter  from  Miss  Fitsmorton  : 

To  Miss  Grosvenor. 

*'  I  will  no  longer  debar  myself  the  satis- 
faction of  writing  a  few  lines  to  my  dearest 
Emily.  Sir  George  Sinclair  has  undertaken 
to  deliver  this  to  you  ;  that  he  proves  so 
kind  and  so  considerate  a  friend,  affords  me 
unspeakable  satisfaction  on  your  account. 

"  1  need  not  enforce  to  you  the  resolu- 
tion never  to  become  Lord  Sedley's  wife  ; 
for  I  know  your  just  contempt  of  rank  and 
wealth,  when  put  in  competition  with  Me, 
affections  of  the  heart. — Oh,  Emily  !  how 
much  is  contained  in  these  words  ! 

"  1  find  every  thing  is  settled  between 
your  mother  and  Sir  George  Sinclair  ;  this 
is  a  subject  I  never  can  discuss  with  pa- 
tience. We  all  miss  you  more  than  1  can 
express.  Edward  seems  quite  to  have  de- 
serted us.  Emily,  it  was  indeed  a  cruel 
4* 


42  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

misfortune  which  deprived  him  of  the  com- 
forts of  domestic  life.  With  the  most  ho- 
nourable tendency  to  all  that  is  good,  he 
may  yet  be  led  into  the  paths  of  error,  the 
claims  of  husband  and  of  father,  were  such 
sacred  barriers,  that  he  would  ever  avoid 
the  delusions  of  vice  and  folly. 

*'  The  angel  we  have  lost !  had  you  known 
her !  had  you  loved  her  as  1  did  ! 

*'  Peculiar  circumstances  contributed  so 
to  unite  our  hearts  in  friendship,  that  death 
only  can  erase  the  sacred  remembrance  ! 
These  are  strong  expressions  ;  yet  they  but 
faintly  trace  what  passes  in  my  bosom  J 

"  My  dear  mother,  1  know,  often  won- 
ders at  the  uncommon  depression  of  spirits 
I  labour  under.  My  friend,  you  know  not 
half  her  excellencies  ! 

*'  But  I  am  talking  of  myself,  when  you 
are  alone  the  subject  of  my.  writing.  Oh^ 
that  you  could  fly  to  our  protection  !  that 
my  mother's  arms  could  shelter  3^ou  !  that 
her  counsels  could  instruct  you  how  to 
act ! — But  were  it  on  your  part  practicable 
to  come  to  us,  my  father  is,  1  fear,  so  pre- 
judiced a  judge  of  the  authority  of  a  parent, 
and  «he  obedience  of  a  child,  that  I  dare 
not  urge  you  to  think  of  a  plan,  which 
might  prove  so  inimical  to  the  peace  of 
many. 

"Our  sweet  little  pet,  Mary,  often  in- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  4» 

quires  for  you.  Dearchild^  what  a  loss  she 
has  sustained,  in  being  deprived  of  her  mo- 
ther !  Should  Edward  ever  marry  again, 
may  I  he  enal)led  to  love,  as  1  wish  to  do, 
the  second  mother  of  chis  interesting  dar- 
ling ! 

"  1  have  just  had  a  charming  letter  from 
our  dear  governess  ;  her  brother  is  dead,  and 
has  left  her  a  very  handsome  fortune ;  and, 
after  remaining  at  Ipswich,  where  she  now 
is,  for  a  year  or  two,  will  settle  nearer  town  : 
her  letter  is  long  and  affectionate.  She  will 
write  to  you  soon,  and  speaks  of  you  with 
great  interest  and  kindnesss. 

"  Heaven  bless  you,  dear  Emily;  be  re- 
solute. I  have  more  reasons  than  I  dare 
acknowledge  for  wishing  you  were  not  de- 
pendant upon  your  mother.  But  there  is 
a  Being,  who  is  a  Father  to  the  tarherless  ; 
and  to  his  never-failing  protection  the  pray- 
er of  friendship  consigns  you.  Believe  me, 
always,  "  Your  affectionate 

"  Mary  Fitsmorton." 

Emily  pondered  on  the  contents  of  this 
letter ;  she  knew  that  her  mother  was  not  a 
favourite  with  her  friend,  but  Mary  would 
not  speak  so  forcibly  without  some  pecu- 
liar meaning.  Alas  !  she  knew  not  how 
busily  the  tongue  of  fame  had  whispered 
the  secrets  of  her  mother's  conduct !  and 


44  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

that  gaming  wa^  undermining  her  once  af- 
fluent  fortune  ! 

Lord  Sediey,  wholly  depending  on  Mrs. 
Grosvenor^s  management,  sent  Emily  the 
most  costly  presents ;  declaring  that  he 
would  not  again  intrude  upon  her  presence 
till  she  met  him  at  the  altar  ;  and  every 
thing  appeared  drawing  to  a  conclusion. 
Miss  Sandl'ord  continually  assuring  Emily 
that  the  most  splendid  preparations  were 
making  for  her*s  and  for  her  mother's  wed- 
ding. 

"  Cannot  you,"  (Emily  despairingly  ask- 
ed Miss  Sandford)  *'  cannot  you  assist  me 
in  any  plan  to  avoid  this  hated  marriage  ?" 

"  Dear  me,  no  ;  how  can  you  suppose  I 
would  act  so  contrary  to  your  good  mo- 
ther's wishes  ?  1  wish  you  would  hear  rea- 
son.' An  offer  from  a  man  of  quality  does 
not  occur  every  day.  See  these  elegant 
presents,  and  judge  from  them  of  the  mu- 
nificence of  his  spirit.  Only  think,  how 
lovely  you  will  appear  in  your  bridal  robes; 
and  then  to  take  precedence  of  your  mo- 
ther, to  be  called  my  Lady^  at  every  word. 
Wbat  if  my  Lord  is  a  few  years  older  than 
yourself,  and  looks  rather  unhealthy,  every 
thing  happens  for  the  best ;  and  you  may 
one  day  be  left  wholly  independent  of  the 
world." 

Emily  sat  the  image  of  despair,  vacantly 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  45 

gazing  at  her  loquacious  cousin,  who  al- 
most supposed,  by  the  silence  of  her  com- 
panion, that  her  rhetoric  had  prevailed. 
She  immediately  communicated  her  ill-for- 
med hopes  to  Mrs.  Grosvenor,  who  soon 
after  sought  a  conference  with  Emily,  and 
found  how  much  Maria  had  heen  deceived 
in  her  conclusion. 

Emily,  at  first,  pleaded  for  mercy  ;  en- 
treated to  be  sent  away  any  where,  to  be 
for  ever  buried  in  solitude,  rather  than 
marry  Lord  Sedley  :  but,  finding  all  her 
arguments  were  either  treated  with  ridicule 
or  severity,  she  resolutely  declared  no  pow- 
er on  earth  should  force  her  to  comply. 

"  You  play  the  heorine  most  admirably,", 
returned  her  mother,  "  but  this  extraordi- 
nary spirit  of  yours  may  be  subdued.  In 
one  week  more  you  will  be  Lord  Sedley^s 
wife,  nor  shall  you  leave  this  house  but 
under  his  protection."  Mrs.  Grosvenor 
then  abruptly  left  the  room,  and  Emily 
resolved  to  consult  Sir  George  Sinclair  on 
some  means  of  escape  from  the  misery  that 
awaited  her. 

Escape  to  whom  ?  What  plan  could  she 
adopt  ?  She  dared  not  involve  Miss  Fits- 
raorton  in  the  attempt.  The  illiberal  re- 
flections her  mother  had  passed,  precluded 
the  possibility  of  her  claiming  Mrs.  Fits- 
morton's    protection.     Would    it    not    be 


46  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

throwing  herself  in  the  way  of  Edward,  and 
unnecessarily  exciting  his  compassion  ? 
She  avowed  to  her  own  heart  that  the  sis- 
terly affection  she  felt  for  him,  w^ould  ever 
make  the  restoration  of  his  happiness  con- 
ducive to  her  own.  She  honoured  him 
for  the  respect  and  enthusiastic  attachment 
he  had  evinced  for  the  memory  of  his  wife, 
and  with  somewhat  of  the  romantic  senti- 
ments of  youth,  she  deemed  it  impossible, 
or,  at  least  improbable,  that  he  could  ever 
love  again  :  hence  the  innocent  familiarity 
with  which  she  had  ever  treated  him  ;  and 
the  efforts  she  exerted  to  soothe  and  amuse 
his  mind,  were  the  pure  dictates  of  her  na- 
tive benevolence. 

She  thou2:ht  of  Mrs.  Mason.  Could  she 
procure  her  address  at  Ipswich,  she  would 
fly  to  her  protection.  She  would  consult 
Sir  George  Sinclair  on  the  subject  ;  and, 
with  something  like  a  palliation  of  her  per- 
plexities, she  sought  on  her  pillow  the  re- 
pose of  innocence. 

Far  different  were  the  waking  or  the 
sleeping  reveries  of  Mrs.  Grosvenor.  She 
dreaded  an  investigation  of  her  conduct  by 
the  man  she  knew  she  was  so  grossly  de- 
ceiving ;  and,  whilst  the  fictitious  smiles  of 
animation  illumined  her  countenance,  all 
was  an.irchy  and  confusion  in  her  bosom. 

A  few  evenings  before  the  dreaded  mar- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  47 

riage  day,  Emily  and  her  mother  had,  as 
usual,  parted  in  distress  and  anger  ;  and, 
Emily  seeing  a  paper  on  the  carpet,  near 
the  (hair  Mrs  Grosvenor  had  been  sitting 
on,  she  carelessly  took  it  up,  imagining  it 
might  be  a  bill,  or  a  letter  upon  business  ; 
but  as  she  flung  it  upon  the  table,  the  words 
adoration^  loue,  and  surprise,  caught  her  at- 
tention ;  and,  without  waiting  a  moment 
for  reflection,  she  hastily  unfolded  the  pa- 
per, and  read  a  confirmation  of  every  de- 
pravity that  woman  could  be  guilty  of. 
The  letter  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Grosve- 
nor, from  a  foreigner  of  distinction,  who 
was  just  arrived  in  England.  He  reproach- 
ed her  with  her  faithless  conduct,  avowed 
his  continued  love  and  adoration  ;  and  con- 
cluded with  reverting  to  scenes  which  had 
passed  even  before  the  death  of  Mr.  Gros- 
venor, and  all  in  such  impassionate  lan- 
guage, and  in  a  stile  so  new  to  the  innocent 
and  agitated  Emily,  that  this  appeared  to 
be  the  bitterest  trial  she  ever  could  experi- 
ence. 

Absorbed  in  a  chaos  of  reflections,  she 
^vas  vainly  endeavouring  to  collect  her  ideas 
for  some  plan  of  immediate  action,  when 
Sir  George  Sinclair,  claiming,  as  usual,  the 
privilege  of  visiting  her  on  ihe  old  argu- 
ment of  persuasion  from  her  mother,  knock- 
ed for  admittance  at  the  door  of  her  apart- 
ment. 


48  THE  FATAL  CASmET. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor  having  in  the  morning 
answered  the  above-mentioned  letter;  and, 
as  she  fancied,  secured  it  in  her  writing- 
table,  thought  no  more  of  so  fatal  an  evi- 
dence of  her  depravity.  She  had  just  dis- 
missed Lord  Sediey,  with  fresh  assurances 
that  a  few  days  would  complete  his  liappi- 
ness,  and  was  preparing  lor  an  interview 
with  her  former  lover,  in  order  to  lull  him 
into  a  security  of  her  faith,  when  Sir  George 
Sinclair  unweicomely  made  his  appearance. 
She,  of  course,  pleaded  some  engagement 
of  business,  not  expecting  the  happiness  of 
seeing  him  that  evening,  but  said  Maria 
would  make  tea  for  him  in  Emily's  dressing- 
room  ;  ai]d,  with  the  semblance  of  real  re- 
gard, she  lamented  the  necessity  of  leaving 
him  for  an  hour  or  two.  Without  inquir- 
ing for  Miss  Sandford,  he,  as  before-men- 
tioned, sought  the  disconsolate  Emily. 

The  sight  of  a  man  so  wronged,  so  de- 
ceived, who  was  soon  to  become  the  hus- 
band of  her  mother,  brought  tears  to  her 
relief;  but  the  death-like  paleness  of  her 
countenance,  and  the  cold  shivering  of  her 
frame,  alarmed  him  with  real  apprehension 
that  indisposition  was  the  cause. 

"  Good  God  !  mv  dear  girl,  you  are  ill, 
very  ill,"  (was  his  first  anxious  exclama- 
tion) and  taking  her  cold  hand  in  both  his 
own,  gave  it  a  tenderer  pressure  than  he 
usually  ventured  to  do. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET. 


49 


^'  Is  it  in  the  power  of  friendship,  my 
dear  Emily,  to  adopt  any  plan  for  your  re- 
lief? 1  have  procured  Mrs.  Mason's  address, 
and  could  you  venture  the  journey  in  a 
stage,  1  am  almost  tempted  to  advise  you 
to  go  to  her  immediately." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  what  I  ought  to  do." 

"  I  have  in  vain  endeavoured  to  persuade 
your  mother  to  let  our  marriage  take  place 
first,  because  I  should  then  be  entitled  to 
protect  you  ;  but  she  will  see  you  the 
countess  of  Sedley  before  we  are  united." 

Emily  could  only  articulate — • 

"  My  poor  mother !" 

Sir  George  was  surprised  at  the  peculi- 
arity of  her  manner;  he  endeavoured  to 
soothe  her  mind,  and  again  mentioned  his 
approaching^  nuptials. 

'•  Dear  Sir  George,"  (she  emphatically 
replied)  "  ought  you  to  marry  my  mother  ?" 

Her  incoherence  and  eneroy  startled  him, 
but  soon  the  depravity  of  his  own  mind 
drew  but  one  conclusion  from  her  manner. 
Vanity  led  him  to  suppose  that  the  com- 
parison which  she  made  between  Lord  Sed- 
ley and  himself,  thus  agitated  her  feelmgs. 
He  regarded  her  in  silence,  undecided  hov/ 
to  act ;  how  to  assure  her  that  her  partiali- 
ty w^as  understood  and  fully  appreciated, 
momentarily  expecting  a  fuller  explanation 
of  her  sentiments. 

VOL.   I.  S 


53  THE  FATAL  CABINET, 

Far  different  were  Emily^s  meditations  ; 
to  expose  her  mother  to  Sir  George  Sinclair, 
was  a  dreadful  thought — to  let  him  marry 
her,  was  equally  repulsive  to  her  feelings. 
She  resolved  to  go  immediately  to  Mrs. 
Mason,  and  request  her  advice  in  this  dis- 
tressing business.  Assuming  therefore  a 
resolute  dignity  of  manner,  she  communi- 
cated to  Sir  George  Sinclair  her  intentions. 
He  listened  with  well  dissembled  respect, 
and  readily  took  the  management  of  her 
escape  upon  himself. 

"  How  cheerfully,"'  (he  continued) 
"  would  I  be  your  protector  in  the  jour- 
jiey !  but  this  I  am  persuaded  your  mother 
would  never  pardon.  Be  it,  however,  my 
care  to  ensure  to  you  her  future  favour; 
and  when  she  is  my  wife,  you  shall  confess 
that  my  authorative  or  persuasive  powers 
are  unlimited.  Chear  up,  dearest  Emily, 
and  trust  me  ever  as  your  guardian  and 
your  friend." 

"  Will  you  give  me  your  sacred  promise 
to  defer  your  marriage  with  my  mother 
one  fortnight  longer  ?" 

Again  was  the  gentleman  puzzled  beyond 
all  comprehension  ;  however,  he  felt  little 
difficulty  in  making  her  the  most  solemn 
assurances  to  defer  the  ceremony  much 
longer  if  she  wished  it.  Often  was  he 
tempted  to  clasp  her  to  his  bosom,  to  con- 


THE  FATAL  CABINETv  51 

fess  that  she  only  was  the  object  of  his  love 
and  admiration  ;  that  she  only  should  guide 
his  future  destiny." 

But,  suppressing  the  language  of  extacy, 
he  urged  the  necessity  of  quickly  ascertain- 
ing some  plan  for  her  escape,  as  Miss  Sand- 
ford  was  every  moment  expected  in  the 
room. 

At  length  it  was  concluded,  that  Sir 
George  Sinclair,  by  engaging  Mrs.  Grosve- 
nor  at  cards  till  a  very  late  hour,  on  the  fol- 
lowing evening,  or,  more  strictly  speaking, 
till  early  in  the  morning,  he  would  so  settle 
his  plans  with  a  confidential  servant,  (who 
already  considered  him  as  the  future  mas- 
ter of  the  house)  that  he  should  have  little 
difficulty  in  conveying  Emily  in  safety  to 
the  Ipswich  coach  ;  that  he  himself  would 
secure  a  place,  and  considerately  hoped  to 
find,  on  their  arrival  at  the  inn,  some  re- 
spectable person  to  whose  care  he  might  re- 
commend her.  That  he  advised  her  to 
write  a  few  lines  to  Mrs.  Mason,  apprising 
her  of  the  visitor  she  might  expect,  and  he 
would  forward  the  letter  bv  the  first  coach 
in  the  morning. 

Emily  wrote  a!  short  letter  to  Mrs.  Ma- 
son, and,  after  having  given  it  to  Sir  George 
Sinclair,  he  took  leave  for  the  evening,  ex- 
ulting at  the  happy  chance  which  had  en- 
couraged such  hopes  of  the  enchanting 
Emily's  partiality  for  him. 


53"  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

His  future  plans  were  yet  almost  un- 
known to  himself.  The  more  he  reflected 
on  her  extraordinarj'^  emotion,  when  she 
•wished  him  to  defer  his  marriage  with  Mrs. 
Grosvenor,  the  more  he  was  convinced  the 
strugfjle  between  love  and  duty  occasioned 
it,  and  his  repugnance  to  marry  her  mother 
became  every  hour  more  unconquerable. 

When  Maria  entered  the  room,  she  was 
surprised  to  find  Emily  alone.  She  had 
impatiently  dispatched  some  domestic  em- 
ployment, in  order  to  partake  of  the  pas- 
sing compliments  and  gay  conversation  of 
Sir  George  Sinclair  ;  and  fancying  that  Emi- 
ly was  uncommonly  spiritless  and  dull, 
she  soon  made  an  excuse  to  leave  her  to 
her  own  meditations  ;  first  assuring  her  of 
the  liberality  of  Lord  Sedley,  who,  she  said, 
had  made  the  most  costly  presents  both  to 
Mrs.  Grosvenor  and  to  herself.  She  advis- 
ed her  to  keep  up  her  spirits,  and  to  study 
her  good  looks  a  little,  observing,  that  she 
appeared  more  fit  tor  a  funeral  than  a 
wedding. 

Emily  felt  relieved  by  a  few  hours  of  soli- 
tude, and  when  she  retired  to  rest,  for  the 
first  time  in  her  life,  vainly  courted  sleep^s 
refreshing  power. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  53 

CHAP.  III. 

On  the  following  morning  Emily  was 
much  distressed  to  see  her  mother  enter  the 
dressing-room,  accompanied  by  the  elegant 
paraphernalia,  preparatory  for  the  expected 
occasion.  A  faintness  overpowered  her 
senses,  and  for  some  time  she  could  hardly 
comprehend  the  meaning  of  the  scene  be- 
fore her. 

"  It  is  very  natural,  Emily,  that  you 
should  feel  acutelv  the  s^reat  chansfe  of  sit- 
uation  that  awaits  you.  All  your  attire  is 
answerable  to  these  beautiful  dresses,  and 
your  jewels  are  most  superb  ;"  (opening  a 
shagreen  case  which  contained  a  diamond 
necklace.) 

Emily  involuntarily  pushed  them  from 
her;  and,  shivering  with  convulsive  agony, 
as  she  thought  of  her  mother's  conduct, 
falteringly  exclaimed — 

"  Is  it  possible  ?" 

"  These  tragedy  airs,  Miss  Grosvenor, 
may  suit  the  heroine  of  a  novel ;  but  do  you 
pray  act  like  a  reasonable  being." 

Emily  burst  into  tears.  * 

*'  Come,  come,  child,  exert  a  little  more 
resolution.  Lord  Sedley  awaits  your  con- 
sent to  see  you,  previously  to  the  ceremo- 
ny. But,  be  this  as  it  may,  on  the  day  af- 
5* 


51  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ter  to-morrow  you  are  to  become  his  wife ; 
a  special  licence  is  procured,  and  you  will 
leave  England  on  a  tour  of  pleasure  the  fol- 
lowing morning. 

Emily  gasped  for  breath,  but  with  as 
much  serenity  as  she  could  command,  she 
said — 

"  I  will  endeavour  to  exert  myself,  if 
you,  Madam,  will  promise  me  not  to  admit 
Lord  Sedley  to  my  presence,  till  J  am  obli- 
ged to  meet  him  in  the  drawing-room." 

"  Most  despotic  Princess !  this  is  a 
strange  caprice  of  temper,  but  you  shall  be 
indulged.  I  will  endeavour  to  persuade 
Lord  Sedley  to  accede  to  your  ridiculous 
terms.  But,  mark  me  well,  if  you  dare  to 
trifle  with  us,  or  presume  on  this  my  fool- 
ish indulgence,  by  any  future  disobedience, 
may  beggary  and  wretchedness  be  your 
portion  for  ever  \" 

Emily  trembled,  and  endeavoured  to  say 
something  conciliating,  but  the  words  died, 
upon  her  lips,  and  she  saw  her  mother  de- 
part, without  the  power  or  the  wish  to  de- 
tain her.  At  length,  being  left  alone,  she 
exclaimed — 

"  And  is  this  the  being  to  whom  I  owe 
my  existence?  Whatever  be  my  future 
fate,  would  that  I  could  save  her  from  in- 
famy and  wretchedness  !  rA  mother's  name 
coupled  with  such  epithets  as  these  ! — 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  53* 

'*  Poor  Sir  George,  he  deserves  a  better 
fate  !  Bur,  can  it  iie  I  My  father!  my  de- 
ceived, confidnig  father  !  Shall  I  ever  for- 
get tlie  last  expression  of  his  countenance, 
which  spoke  the  blessings  his  tongue  deni- 
ed to  utter!" 

Too  much  softened  by  these  heart-rend- 
ing emotions,  she  was  obliged  to  exert  her 
utmost  resolution  to  go  through  the  pain- 
ful task  which  awaited  her. 

Maria  told  her  at  a  late  hour  in  the  eve- 
ning, that  Sir  George  and  her  mother  were 
playing  at  piquet ;  that  he  was  considerably 
the  winner,  but  kept  Mrs.  Grosvenor  in 
perfect  good  humour,  by  constantly  revert- 
ing to  the  idea,  "  that  as  one  interest  would 
soon  guide  them,  pecuniary  considerations 
were  of  little  moment,"  Maria,  adding, 
"  that  the  playful  fooleries  of  lovers  being 
always  uninteresting  to  by-standers,  she 
had  left  them  for  the  evening,  as  they  had 
just  sent  away  the  sandwiches,  and  were 
again  engaged  in  the  game  with  great  spir- 
it. So  good-night,  Emily,"  she  continued, 
"  though  not  long  must  I  presume  to  call 
you  so  ;  therefore,  by  way  of  practice,  good- 
night, my  dear  elected  countess  of  Sedley." 

It  was  not  till  morning  that  Sir  George 
Sinclair  pretended  to  take  leave  of  his  in- 
tended bride :  fortune  had  been  to  him  most 
propitious,  and  he  left  her  with  a  larger  sum 


56  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

of  money  in  his  }3ossession  than  he  had 
dared  to  hope  would  fail  to  his  lot, 

Emily  endeavoured  to  gain  a  little  re- 
pose, so  needful  to  strengthen  her  agitated 
frame,  and  to  compose  her  drooping  spir- 
its ;  but,  finding  the  etfort  useless,  she  sat 
in  fearful  expectation,  awaiting  the  little 
bustle  of  Sir  George  Sinclair's  departure. 

She  was  not  quite  satisfied  with  the  plan 
she  had  adopted,  but  she  hoj)ed  the  exi- 
gency of  the  case  would  excuse  her  leaving 
her  mother's  house  in  so  clandestine  a  man- 
ner ;  and  when  once  sheltered  by  Mrs.  Ma- 
son's protection,  she  could  better  resolve 
how  to  act  to  save  both  Sir  George  and  her 
mother  from  future  misery  and  repentance  : 
and  she  began  to  reason  herself  into  the  be- 
lief that  the  step  she  was  about  to  take, 
was  the  only  means  to  free  herself  from  the 
expected  detested  marriage. 

At  the  appointed  hour  she  heard  the  sig- 
nal at  her  dressing-room  door,  and  she  met 
Sir  George  with  tolerable  composure.  The 
servant  had  procured  them  a  hackney- 
coach  ;  the  morning  was  dark  and  gloomy; 
numberless  were  the  protestations  of  her 
companion,  that  her  interest  and  her  hap- 
piness should  ever  be  the  first  object  of  his 
life  ;  but  Emily,  absorbed  in  her  own  re- 
flections, little  heeded  the  hurried  and  agi- 
tated manner  in  which  he  addressed  her. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  57 

She  again  received  his  willing  promise,  that 
more  than  a  fortnight  should  elapse  before 
he  married  her  mother,  and  on  their  arrival 
at  the  stage  door,  she  gave  him  her  hand  in 
token  of  gratitude  for  all  his  kind  attentions. 

Nothing  particular  occurred  during  the 
journey.  A  very  thick  fog  excited  the 
fears  and  apprehensi(Mis  of  the  female  pas- 
sengers, but  Emily,  wishing  to  shun  obser- 
vation, sat  silently  and  abstractedly  in  one 
corner  of  the  vehicle,  and  preferred  the  re- 
freshment of  a  biscuit  to  partaking  of  the 
hurried  repast  prepared  for  the  passengers. 
Indeed,  this  had  been  Sir  George  Sinclair's 
earnest  recommendation  ;  and  though  it 
subjected  her  to  the  facetious  remarks  or 
the  ill-will  of  her  hungry  companions,  her 
thoughts  were  too  much  occupied  to  heed 
their  general  animadversions. 

"  Welcome  to  Harwich,  good  folks,"  at 
length  aroused  her  attention. 

"  To  Harwich  !"  Emily  said,  "  I  believe 
you  mean  Ipswich,  Madam,"  (addressing  a 
loquacious  vulgar-looking  woman.) 

"  Indeed,  Miss,  I 'mean  what  I  says," 
she  answered,  "  but  I  supposes  you  are  in 
love,  as  they  say,  or  you  mought  have  ea- 
sily seen  this  was  not  the  Ipswich  stage. 
Had  you  been  sociably  inclined,  and  eat 
and  drank  like  your  neighbours,  you  would 
have  found  out  the  mistake  before  now.     I 


58  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ax  pardon,  but  it  is  always  ill  convenient 
to  be  above  one's  company," 

So  saying,  she  alighted  from  the  eoach, 
and  left  Emily  to  follow  the  rest  of  the  pas- 
sengers at  her  leisure.  Too  truly  convinc- 
ed by  the  mistress  of  the  inn  that  she  had 
really  arrived  at  Harwich,  and  attributing 
the  mistake  to  every  cause  but  the  right, 
she  did  not  weakly  give  way  to  fruitless  re- 
pining, but  requested  to  have  a  bed-room 
prepared  immediately,  and  to  be  conducted 
to  a  sittinsr-room  where  she  could  not  be 
intruded  upon. 

"  Fil  see  what  I  can  do,  Miss,"  the  land- 
lady  answered,  "but   the  house  is  quite, 
full  ;"  and  Emily  heard  her  say,  as  she  left, 
her  in  a  little  mean  parlour,  "  Very  extra- 
ordinary indeed  !" 

Emily's  situation  was  not  an  enviable 
one:  Weary  of  conjecture,  she  recollected 
how  necessary  it  was  to  ensure  the  civility 
of  the  house,  by  ordering  supper.  Ring- 
ing, therefore,  for  the  waiter,  she  desired 
to  have  some  refreshment  as  soon  as  possi- 
ble. During  her  uncomfortable  repast  the 
tears  of  disappointment  could  not  be  re- 
strained at  this  unlucky  mistake, — Her 
dear  Mrs.  Mason  !  what  anxiety  she  would 
feel  on  heraccounr!  and  most  surprising  it 
appeared,  that  Sir  George  Sinclair's  boasted 
care  and  attention  should  have  so  materi- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  s$ 

ally  failed  ;  in  the  morning  she  could  better 
determine  what  plan  to  pursue  ;  and  was 
about  to  order  the  presence  of"  the  cham- 
ber-maid, when  a  man,  apparently  a  stran- 
ger, entered  the  room.  Imagining  he  would 
instantly  apologize  for  the  mistake,  she  for 
a  moment  regarded  him  in  silence  ;  but  see- 
ing him  approach  the  table,  she  was  ad- 
vancing towards  the  bell,  when  throwing 
oflf  his  horseman^s  coat  and  hat,  she  recog- 
nized the  person  of  Sir  George  Sinclair  ! 
The  first  impulse  of  her  mind  was  to  wel- 
come him  as  her  protector;  but,  checked 
by  the  exultation  of  his  manner,  something 
like  the  truth  bewildered  her  imagination. 
His  impassioned  gaze,  and  insulting  ex- 
pressions of  everlasting  love  and  gratitude, 
soon  confirmed  her  well-grounded  suspi- 
cions ;  and  he  even  dared  to  thank  her  for 
the  preference  she  had  evinced  in  his  fa- 
vour. 

"  Your  conduct,  Sir,"  she  replied,  "  is 
perfectly  enigmatical ;  but  I  only  now  in- 
sist on  your  immediate  absence." 

"  Hear  me  with  candour;  let  love  plead 
my  cause,  let  love  excuse  my  temerity.^' 

She  had  nearly  reached  the  bell,  when 
holding  her  forcibly  back,  he  continued: 

"  What  but  the  hope  of  improving  your 
tender  preference  of  me  to  Lord  Sedley,  of 
devoting  my  whole  life   to  your  service. 


60  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

could  induce  me  delicately  to  understand 
your  flattering  wishes  to  procrastinate  my 
union  with  your  mother  ;  and  to  interpret 
the  enchanting  agitation  ox  your  spirits, 
when  you  made  the  request  in  my  own  fa- 
vour ?" 

"  Hold,  Sir,"  she  interrupted,  "  this  is 
too  much.  Could  I  give  credit  to  this  de- 
ceptive idea,  the  sanity  of  my  understand- 
ing might  indeed  be  questioned  ;  that  1  still 
have  a  motive  for  wishing  your  union  with 
my  mother  for  ever  deferred-,  is  most  true  : 
time  may  develope  it,  but  ali  communica- 
tion with  me  is  now  at  an  end." 

'•  Why  so  hasty,  dearest  Emily  ?  I  am 
not  alarmed  at  the  mystery  of  your  expres- 
sions. I  had  not  sacrificed  interest  to  love, 
without  having  formed  suitable  resolu- 
tions." 

"  I  am  not,  Sir,  to  be  intimidated  by 
you  ;  this  house  at  present  is  my  protec- 
tion." 

Emily  had  again  nearl-y  reached  the  bell, 
when  Sir  George,  who  was  prepared  for  vio- 
lence, reproaches,  and  fits,  though  awed  by 
the  dignified  comp()Sure  of  her  mannrr,  for- 
cibly prevented  her  intention,  and  said — 

*'  We  part  not  so  easily,  miidam  ;  you  are 
alone  the  object  of  my  adoration  ;  and,  as 
chance  pointed  out  to  me  this  pl-.m  lo  se- 
oine  you  mine  for  ever,  you  will  not  v\on- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  6l 

der  if  after  sacrificing  all  pecuniary  advan- 
tages for  your  sake,  1  do  not  relinquish  you 
but  with  my  life." 

Emily  smiled  with  contempt  and  impa- 
tience. 

"  Look  not  so  scornful,  Emily,  but  ac- 
cept a  heart  which  adores  you  ;  return  as 
Lady  Sinclair,  and  put  to  flight  ail  malig- 
nant rumours  which  are  already  raised  to 
your  disadvantage. 

"  Your  reputation  must  be  tarnished  ; 
for  who  will  contradict  the  fatal  truth,  that 
you  have  voluntarily  eloped  with  your  mo- 
therms  intended  husband  ?  Facts  are  stub- 
born things  ;  the  very  servant  who  attended 
us  in  the  morning,  was  a  witness  to  your 
readiness  in  leaving  your  mother's  house 
under  my  protection,  and  he  provided  me 
the  diso'uise  of  a  horseman^s  coat,  that  I 
might  escort  you  on  the  outside  of  the 
coach.  But  one  method  remains  to  save 
your  yet  trembling  fame,  and  let  us  trust 
to  time  and  chance  for  future  independ- 
ence." 

"  Nothing,  Sir,  but  your  unmanly  vio- 
lence could  have  made  me  listen  so  long  to 
proposals  which  meet  my  abhorrence  and 
contempt/' 

'^  Hdve,  a  care.  Miss  Grosvenor  ;  unavail- 
ing repentance  may  ensue  from  this  your 
ill-judged    refusal.      What    resource    has 

VOL.  I.  6 


63  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

that  delicate  female  mind,  who  has  lost 
friends,  reputation,  and  all  that  make  life 
respectable  and  happy  ?" 

"  To  answer  you,  or  to  recriminate,  is 
derogatory  to  the  feelings  of  ofTendcd  deli- 
cacy/^ 

"And  now,  my  ever  lovely  Emily  is 
thinking,  that  the  mind  can  only  receive 
coiKlemnation  at  its  own  awful  tribunal. 
But  whatever  be  the  sophistry  of  argument, 
Oh  !  let  her  not  brave  the  world's  dread 
scorn,  but  in  my  arms  find  shelter  and  pro- 
tection." 

The  unlicensed  freedom  of  his  looks  and 
manner  distressed  and  shocked  her,  but 
still  her  good  senre  prevented  her  sinking 
into  despair,  or  uttering  useless  and  violent 
reproaches.  Some  plan  of  action  she  felt 
was  immediately  necessary  ;  she  knew  that 
at  a  public  inn  no  danger  could  be  appre- 
liended,  she  therefore  pleaded  not  for  mer- 
cy at  his  hands,  nor  with  tears  of  w^eakness 
played  the  weeping  heroine  in  distress  ; 
but,  assuming  a  composure  she  could  not 
feel  again,  commanded  Sir  George  Sinclair 
to  leave  the  room. 

*'  By  all  that's  sacred  I  will  jiot  leave 
you,"  he  replied,  "  unless  you  give  me  your 
solemn  promise  to  meet  here  in  the  morn- 
ing !" 

'■■'■  The  presumption  of  your  request  ex- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  63 

cites  my  contempt ;"  and,  resolutely  break- 
ing from  him,  she  pulled  the  bell  with  vio- 
lence. 

On  the  waiter  keeping  the  door  open  for 
orders,  she  saw  through  a  half-closed  door 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  house,  a  gentle- 
man and  lady  sitting  at  supper,  both  ap- 
parently advanced  in  years,  and  as  far  as 
she  could  judge,  highly  respectable  in  their 
appearance.  Decision  followed  the  reflec- 
tion of  a  moment  ;  she  immediately  passed 
her  astonished  companion,  and  surprised 
the  gentleman  and  lady  by  her  very  abrupt 
entrance  into  their  apartment. 

Without  giving  them  time  for  unfavour- 
able conjectures,  she  implored  their  pardon 
and  protection  ;  and,  in  as  brief  a  manner 
as  possible,  related  the  occasion  of  her  pre- 
sent distress ;  and  they,  won  by  the  inno- 
cence of  her  countenance,  and  the  simpli- 
city of  her  manner,  encouraged  her  to  con- 
fide in  them. 

Emily  thought  herself  fully  justified  in 
disclosing  Sir  George  Sinclair's  name,  and 
that  of  herself  and  friends  ;  but  no  sooner 
had  the  name  of  Sinclair  passed  her  lips, 
than  a  death-like  paleness  overspread  the 
countenance  of  the  lady.  Her  husband  ob- 
serving it,  said — "  My  dear  woman,  be 
composed  ;  useless  retrospections  may  un- 
fit us  for  the  duty  we  are  called  upon  to 


64  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

perform/'  Then,  turning  to  Emily,  he  con- 
tinued, "  My  dear  young  lady,  Sir  George 
Sinclair  is  a  bad  enemy  to  contend  with. 
A  few  lines  from  me  to  him,  will  probably 
ensure  his  immediate  departure."  The 
good  man  passed  his  hand  across  his  eyes, 
as  if  wishing  to  suppress  the  emotion  he 
feltj  and  wrote  as  follows  : — 

To  Sir  George  Sinclair. 

''  When  I  consider  I  am  addressing  the 
destroyer  of  my  children,  I  wonder  that  I 
am  nerved  with  sufficient  strength  to  hold 
with  him  any  intercourse  ;  but  in  the  cause 
of  innocence  how  resolute  is  the  mind  of 
man  !  The  victim  of  your  present  pursuit 
rests  safely  under  my  protection.  1  need 
not  warn  you  to  avoid  my  presence ;  har- 
dened as  you  are  in  vice  and  iniquity,  you 
could  not  meet  the  man  you  have  so  great- 
jy  injured. 

"  Francis  Leicester."' 

"  This  note,  my  dear  young  Lady,  will 
free  you  from  farther  molestation  ;"  and 
havino;  oiven  it  to  the  waiter  to  carrv  to 
Sir  George  Sinclair,  all  parties  began  to  feel 
something  like  composure.  Emily  ex- 
plained every  particular  of  her  situation, 
and  plans  for  the  following  day  were  deci- 
ded upon. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  CS- 

Dr.  Leicester  was  a  respectable  clergy- 
man, who  had  just  arrived  with  his  Lady 
at  Harwich,  that  she  might  pass  some  time 
with  her  brother's  family,  who  lived  in  its 
vicinity,  but  arriving  too  late  to  venture 
farther  that  evening,  they  had  determined 
to  sleep  at  the  inn,  and  proceed  to  her  bro- 
ther's house  in  the  morning.  Dr.  Leices- 
ter only  intending  to  stay  one  day,  being 
obliged  to  return  to  town  on  very  particu- 
lar business  ;  but,  prompted  by  the  exigen- 
cy of  the  case,  it  was  resolved  that  Mrs. 
Leicester  should  go  to  her  brother's  alone, 
and  Emily  be  conducted  to  town  by  her 
venerable  protector.  On  the  following 
morning,  therefore,  they  began  their  jour- 
ney, when,  at  the  worthy  man's  desire, 
Emily  repeated  every  thing  which  had  oc- 
curred since  the  time  of  her  leaving  school ; 
and  they,  at  length,  agreed  that  she  should 
go  immediately  to  her  friends  the  Fitsmor- 
ton's. 

"  And  always  remember,"  said  the  good 
doctor,  "  that  the  chance,  or  whatever  we 
may  please  to  call  it,  has  made  us  acquaint- 
ed with  one  another;  it  will  be  the  studi- 
ous wish  of  Mrs.  Leicester  and  myself,  to 
cultivate  a  mutual  and  permanent  regard. 
When  you  know  us,  you  will  know,  that 
though  cheerfulness,  through  the  medium 
of  laith  and  resignation,  is  encoura2:ed  in 
6  * 


d6  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

our  minds,  we  have  tasted  the  bitter  cup  of 
affliction  and  disappointment." 

Emily's  looks  solicited  a  iuUer  explana- 
tion :  he  continued — 

"  Your  sympathizing  countenance  shall 
be  my  best  excuse  for  dwelling  on  my  own 
misfortunes,  and  should  a  parent^s  wrongs, 
a  parent's  griefs,  touch  your  heart,vvhilst 
I  appreciate  your  sensibility,  1  will  endea- 
vour not  to  tax  it  too  frequently  by  useless 
and  unavailing  complaints. 

"  We  were  blessed  with  two  children,  . 
who  gave  every  promise  of  future  perfec- 
tion. They  were  educated  under  the  pa- 
rental roof,  till  the  proficiency  of. my  boy 
in  all  that  youth  could  learn,  obliged  me  to 
send  him  to  Oxford,  to  complete  his  stu- 
dies, and  to  fit  him  for  the  sacred  duties  of 
the  profession  he  was  intended  for.  My 
girl,  lovely,  elegant,  and  accomplished  as  a 
mother's  invaluable  instruction  could  make 
her,  was  our  present  comfort  and  our  fu- 
ture hope.  In  an  evil  hour,  my  son  intro- 
duced Sir  George  Sinclair  as  his  friend,  his 
patron,  and  his  best  beloved  companion  ; 
and  he  soon  became  a  welcome  visitor  at 
our  cheerful  board.  My  wife,  anxious  for 
the  future  happiness  of  her  girl,  began  to, 
fear  there  was  more  attention  than  sinceri- 
ty in  the  behaviour  of  our  guest,  and  we 
were  prudently  planning  her  absence  at  the 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  df 

t 

periods  we  had  reason  to  expect  him,  when 
an   unequivocal  declaration  of  honourable 

;  sentiments  in  Louisa^s  favour,  ensured  to 
him  an  unlimited  confidence.  He  gained 
her  atfections,  he  even  had  been  urgent  for 

ii  the  necessary  preparations  for  their  union, 
and  he  left  her  to  mourn  in  hapless  despair 
his  apostacy  and  deceit.     The  bloom  faded 

<tfrom  her  cheek,  the  lustre  of  her  eye  was 
dimmed,  and  she  was  fast  falling  a  sacrifice 

1  to  the  grief  which  oppressed  her,  when  her 
brother  rashly,  but  secretly,  resolved  to 
reason  with  the  man  who  had  destroyed 
her  peace  ;  and  if  he  refused  to  do  her  jus- 

\\  \tice,  to  call  him  to  that  account  which  cus- 
tom has  so  fatally  authorised. 

"  This  gay  deceiver,  who  had  so  long 
abused  the  sacred  rights  of  hospitality,  tri- 
fled with  my  poor  boy^s  appeal  to  justice 
and  honour  ;  and  even  dared  to  hint,  that 
though  an  unfortunate  dependance  on  a  ca- 

ji  pricious  uncle  was  the  ostensible  obstacle, 
yet  his  change  of  sentiments  in  some  mea- 

J!  sure  originated  in  the  levity  of  my  Louisa^s 

;'  temper.  Had  you  known  her,  Miss  Gros- 
venor,  how  widely   would  you    have  dis- 

1  criminated  between  levity  of  temper  and 

'  the  innocent  vivacity  of  hers  ! 

"  Despicable  cowardice  !  he  would  have 

•sheltered  himself  in  the  labyrinth  of  deceit ; 

i  and  cast  the  error  on  one  whose  only  fault 


68  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

was  loving  too  well  the  man  she  should 
have  despised  for  ever  !  High  spirited,  warni 
in  the  defence  of  an  injured  sister,  my  son 
indignantly  gave  him  the  appellation  of  liar. 
A  challenge  ensued,  and  Henry  fell  by  the 
bullet  of  his  antagonist  !  We  had  yet  ano- 
ther afflictive  task  to  go  through — Louisa 
drooped  and  died  !  She  had  not  fortitude  to 
bear  up  under  her  own  disappointment,  th» 
misfortune  of  her  brother's  death,  and  her 
parents'  sorrow. 

"  You  can  now,  my  dear  young  Lady, 
account  for  Mrs.  Leicester's  emotion  when 
Sir  George  Sinclair's  name  was  mentioned. 
As  a  christian  I  endeavour  to  forgive  him ; 
but  as  a  father,  1  must  ever  feel  and  remem- 
ber, '  that  such  things  were ;'  and  that  he 
was  the  destroyer  of  my  children." 

Emily's  sympathy  spoke  forcibly  to  his 
heart,    and    a   conversation    then    ensuedji 
wherein  the  excellency  of  her  understand-  ^ 
ing,  and   the  pertinency  of  her  remarks 
both  pleased  and  surprised  the  worthy  doc-  j 
tor.     She  was  no  less  delighted  with  him 
whose    paternal   counsels    contributed    tc 
soothe  and  to  prepare  her  mind  for  the  tri 
als  which  yet  awaited  her.    "  Oh  !  my  dea 
Sir,"  she  at  length  exclaimed,  "  what  an 
my  perplexities  when  compared  with  a  mo 
ther's  apostacy  from  rectitude  !  The  Go( 
you  encourage  me  to  trust  in,  will  enabl 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  6«» 

me  to  clear  my  own  character  from  every 
undeserved  imputation.  1  have  friends 
into  whose  hearts  I  shall  be  again  received.; 
and  the  consciousness  of  not  having  inten- 
tionally erred,  will  prove  my  best  support. 
But,  my  mother!  my  poor  mother  !  where 
will  she  find  comfort  V 

"  My  dear  Miss  Grosvenor,"  he  replied, 
*'  I  acknowledge  you  have  reason  for  unea- 
siness: the  frailties  of  a  parent  fall  doubly 
severe  upon  the  child  ;  but  be  comforted 
,with  the  thought,  that  you  will  on  every 
occasion  perform  your  proper  duty,  and 
leave  to  the  Disposer  of  all  events  the  elu- 
cidation of  futurity." 

Emily  bowed  in  silent  acquiescence  ;  and 
if  her  mind  now  and  then  wandered,  in  con- 
jecturing what  were  Edward  Fitsmorton's 
sentinients  on  her  conduct,  it  might  pro- 
I  ceed  from  the  friendship  and  esteem  she  had 
ever  professed  for  him. 


i 


70  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

CHAP.    IV. 

To  attempt  to  describe  Mrs.  Grosvenor'a 
rage,  indignation,  and  disappointment,  at 
Emily's  supposed  elopement  with  Sir 
George  Sinclair,  were  impossible !  Every 
unfeminine  expression  which  ungoverned 
passion  could  suggest,  fell  from  her  lips  : 
till  exhausted  by.  her  own  violence,  she  was 
conveyed  senseless  to  her  bed  ;  and  when 
sufficiently  recovered  to  see  Lord  Sedley, 
resolutions  of  revenge  on  one  side,  and 
vows  of  eternally  abandoning  Emily  to  her 
fate  on  the  other,  by  giving  vent  to  their 
feelings,  in  some  measure,  subdued  their 
violence.  So  well  did  Mrs.  Grosvenor  play 
her  part,  in  lamentations  for  the  depravity 
of  an  only  child  ;  so  pathetically  did  she 
exclaim,  "  My  dear,  dear  Lord,  who  would 
be  a  mother?"  that  he  was  duped  by  her 
artifices,  and  for  a  moment  debated  whether 
the  mother  was  sufficiently  attractive  to 
compensate  for  the  loss  of  the  daughter. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor^s  associates  mournfully, 
condoled  with  her  on  her  disappointment  ; 
some  of  them  privately  declaring,  that  they 
thought  Sir  George  Sinclair  had  made  a 
good  exchange  ;  and  though  reprobating 
the  conduct  of  Emily,  all  thouoht  the  affair 
might  blow  over,  if  she  returned  Lady  Sin- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  7r 

clair;  and  that  Lord  Sedley  had  better  con- 
sole himself  with  the  Dowager. 

]\Irs.  Grosvenor  had  not  missed  the  letter 
in  Emily's  possession,  but  her  own  con- 
science convinced  her  she  could  not  long 
maintain  the  appearance  of  respectability 
in  the  world.  Her  fortune  was  squander- 
ed, and  the  depravity  of  her  character  only 
screened  by  the  veil  with  which  deception 
sometimes  favours  the  votaries  of  vice  and 
folly;  and  therefore  the  finger  of  scorn  h^d 
only  pointed-  not  permanently  marked  her, 
las  an  object  of  infamy, 
i  Sir  George  Sinclair  had  pleased  her  fan- 
•cy,  and  marriage  appeared  the  most  suc- 
cessful card  to  ensure  her  continued  rank 
jin  society,  and  the  loss  of  him,  more  than 
the  conduct  of  Emily,  filled  her  bosom 
with  indignant  disappointment.  Emily  she 
'Idetermined  to  cast  off  for  ever  ;  and  when 
she  became  calm  enough  for  reflection,  she 
idid  not  think  it  impossible  but  that  Lord 
Sedley  might,  from  motives  of  pique,  and 
passion,  offer  her  his  hand.  This  thought 
lonce  encouraged,  every  art  and  blandish- 
ment, every  delic£te  attention  she  so  well 
knew  how  to  affect,  flattered  his  vanity, 
and  soothed  his  irritated  mind.  She  would 
hardly  permit  him  to  quit  her  presence; 
^also  pretending  that  his  consolations  were 
^ecessar}'^  to  her  present  peace  and  her  fu- 


72  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

tiire  comfort  ;  and  by  artfully  fanning  the 
flanne  of  resentment  in  his  bosom,  she  ho- 
ped to  turn  it  lo  her  own  purposes  and 
advantages. 

Sir  George  Sinclair,  on  Emily's  sudden 
escape  from  the  room,  was  tol lowing  her 
with  all  possible  expedition  ;  but  carching 
a  transient  view  of  Dr.  Leicester's  respect- 
able figure  as  the  door  was  closing  after 
her,  he  instantly  retreated. 

Upon  questioning  the  waiter,  he  was 
convinced  that  Emily  had  found  a  protec- 
tor ;  and  cursing  his  unfortunate  stars,  that 
chance  had  conducted  her  to  perhaps  the 
only  man  living  he  feared  to  meet,  he  one 
moment  ordertd  horses  for  his  immediate 
departure,  and  the  next  moment  swallowed 
potent  libations  of  brandy,  which  he  had 
drank  as  a  cordial  when  he  first  alighted 
from  the  outside  of  the  coach.  Dr.  Lei- 
cester's cool  and  dispassionate  note  being 
given  to  him,  all  coherence  of  thought  was 
lost  in  the  chaos  and  confusion  of  his  mind ; 
and  soon  the  fury  of  contending  passions 
gave   way  to    the   oblivion   of  his   senses. 

With  the  returning  morning,  returned 
every  feeling  of  rage  and  disappointment, 
but  affecting  a  gay  hilarity  of  spirits,  long 
after  Emily  had  left  the  inn  with  her  new 
companion,  he  ordered  horses  to  conveyi 
him  thirty   miles  across   the   countrv,   to 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  73 

vegetate  a  few  weeks  with  an  uncle,  on 
whom  he  had  hitherto  imposed  with  studi- 
ed hypocrisy,  till  the  notoriety  of  this  affair 
had  a  little  subsided. 

Far  from  intending  to  relinquish  the  pur- 
suit of  Emily,  her  blooming  graces,  and 
decorum  of  conduct,  had  increased  his  love 
and  admiration :  he  solemnly  swore  he 
could  not  live  without  her,  and  resolved 
only  to  be  more  wary  in  his  future  plans. 

When  chance,  or  concurring  circumstan- 
ces, fatally  confirmed  Emily's  elopement 
with  the  intended  huvstand  of  her  mother, 
the  tidingjs  were  soon  conveyed  to  the 
Fitsmorton  family.  Various  were  their 
comments  on  this  diso;raceful  and  extraor- 
dinary step;  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  was  wavering 
and  incredulous;  Edward,  with  heightened 
colour  and  indignation  flashing  from  his 
eye,  appeared  to  treat  the  report  with  con- 
temptuous silence,  secretly  resolving  to 
make  every  possible  enquiry  on  the  sub- 
ject. Miss  Fitsmorton  often  repeated, 
"  that  Emily  could  not  be  guilty  of  such 
shameful  conduct ;"  and  her  father  made  his 
appropriate  remarks,  at  the  same  time,  cool- 
ly asking  Mrs.  Fitsmorton — "  What  ex- 
cuse she  could  now  make  for  her  immacu- 
late favourite  ?" 

When  Edward  Fitsmorton  called  at  Mrs. 
Grosvenor's  house,  the  door  was  opened 

VOL.  I.  7 


74  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

by  the  servant  who  had  attended  the  fugi- 
tives to  the  stage,  and  in  reply  to  the  re- 
quest of  speaking  with  Miss  Sandford,  he 
answered,  "  Sir,  the  ladies  have  given  par- 
ticular orders  to  be  denied  to  all  company. 
My  lady  is  in  fits,  (the  man  could  hardly 
prevent  a  laugh)  because  Miss  Grosvenor 
has  eloped  with  her  handsome  husband 
that  was  to  be.^' 

Edv\^ard  staggered  against  the  door,  but 
with  as  much  composure  as  he  could  as- 
sume, he  said — 

"  1  fancy  there  is  some  mistake  in  this 
business." 

*'  Mistake  ! — No,  no,  Sir,"  replied  the 
man,  "  there  is  no  mistake,  Til  assure  you  ; 
for  I  saw  them  with  my  own  eyes  get  into 
a  hackney-coach,  and  Miss  Grosvenor  ap- 
peared quite  composed,  only  a  little  pale 
or  so  ;  and  when  Sir  George  put  her  into 
the  Harwich  stage,  she  shook  hands  with 
him  quite  in  good  humour;  and  then  I 
helped  him  on  with  a  horseman^s  coat,  that 
he  might  'tend  her  on  the  outside  of  the 
coach.  All  this  is  quite  true,  I  do  assure 
you.  Sir  ;  besides  they  have  been  such  good 
friends  lately,  and  I  and  my  fellow-servants 
have  thought  it  very  extraordinary  that 
Miss  Grosvenor  should  so  often  have  ad- 
mitted Sir  George  to  her  dressing-room, 
when  she  would  not  never  see  Lord  Sed- 
Jey." 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  75 

"  Damnation  !"  exclaimed  Fitsmorton. 

"  No  offence,  Sir,  1  hope,  I  dare  say  by 
this  time  Miss  Grosvenor  is  Lady  Sinclair, 
and  Sir  George  is  such  a  generous  hearted 
gentleman,  that — •" 

Edward  interrupted  him,  and  endeavour- 
ing to  recover  his  composure,  he  said,  '*  He 
would  call  on  the  ladies  at  some  future  op- 
portunity." Oppressed  with  feelings  al- 
most indefinable  to  himself,  he  entered  a 
coffeehouse,  and  there  rumour,  with  her 
hundred  tongues,  was  spreading  the  news 
of  the  day.  Some  of  Sir  George  Sinclair's 
acquaintance  were  lounging  away  a  morn- 
ing hour,  and  in  the  course  of  conversation 
remarked  on  the  advantage  he  had  gained, 
in  taking  the  daughter  instead  of  the  mo- 
ther. "True,"  replied  one,  "but  he  will 
not  by  the  exchange  beoverburthened  with 
the  needful  ;  and  as  beauty  soon  grows  '  fa- 
miliar to  the  lover,'  he  had  acted  with  more 
discretion  if  marriage  with  the  young  lady 
were  entirely  out  of  the  question.  We  ail 
know  what  sort  of  a  school  Mrs.  Grosve- 
nor's  house  must  have  proved  to  youth  and 
inexperience." 

Edward  had  began  a  letter  to  his  friend 
and  fellow  collegian,  Alfred  Granby  ;  he 
crushed  the  paper  into  his  pocket,  and 
sought  refuge  in  his  own  house  from  the 
agitation  which  oppressed  him  ;  but  par- 


76  THE  FATAL  CABINE-f. 

ticular  business  requiring  he  should  give 
attention  to  the  letter,  he  thus  concluded 
it: — 

"  Alfred,  the  subject  I  now  unwillingly 
enter  upon,  has  aft'ecfed  me  most  unac- 
countably, but  lives  there  a  human  being 
who  can  patiently  become  the  dupe  of  his 
own  deliberate  judgment  ?  if  simplicity  of 
manners,  united  with  stability  of  mind  ;  if 
beauty,  adorned  with  all  that  education 
could  bestow  ;  if  a  countenance,  which 
spoke  the  feelings  of  an  unsophisticated 
heart,  were  calculated  to  deceive!  J  may 
stand  excused  for  having  been  this  willing 
dupe  to  such  apparent  perfections.  1  should 
feel  the  same  was  my  sister's  honour  and 
decorum  of  conduct  in  question. 

"  Miss  Grosvenor  has  eloped  with  Sir 
George  Sinclair,  her  mother's  intended  hus- 
band !  she  on  the  eve  of  marriage  with 
another !  To  comment  on  this  dereliction 
from  propriety  can  now  little  avail !  Did  I 
not  say  1  loved  her  as  a  sister  ?  of  what  use 
is  it  now  to  declare,  that  there  have  been 
times  when  the  image  of  Emily  Grosvenor 
has  so  floated  on  my  imagination,  that  I 
have  thought  it  not  impossible  but  that  she 
might  hereafter  supply  to  me  the  angel  I 
have  lost,  and  become  the  mother  and  pro- 
tectress of  my  child.  I  am  formed  for  do- 
mestic habits,  but  1  am  not  insensible  to 


I 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  77 

the  influence  of  unexpected  ter}i"ptations» 
This  perhaps  is  only  the  weak  excuse  of 
erring  humanity,  and  I  feel  the  humiliation 
of  such  a  confession. 

"  1  now  shall  never  meet  with  a  mind 
equal  to  that  of  my  lamented  wife's  :  she 
tempered  the  volatility  of  mine,  by  the 
judgment,  sense,  and  mildness  of  her  own. 
My  welfare,  my  honour,  and  my  fortune, 
were  s.acred  deposits  in  her  hands.  How 
inconsistent  is  the  human  mind!  led  from 
the  feelings  of  the  moment  to  indulge  in  an 
eulogium  on  this  departed  angel,  when  I 
have  so  forcibly  confessed  my  disappoint- 
ment at  Emily  Grosvenor's  deception  of 
character.  But  thus  all  visionary  prospects 
end !  and  the  being  my  fancy  had  exalted 
as  a  counterpart  of  the  lovely  mother  of 
my  child,  sinks  on  a  level  with  the  weak- 
est, I  had  almost  said,  with  the  most  con- 
temptible of  her  sex. 

"I  have  had  some  serious  thoughts  of 
entering  into  the  army.  Emily  Grosvenor, 
I  confess,  has  made  me  ponder  on  the  sub- 
ject. My  father's  objections  I  should  cer- 
tainly ha\'e  endeavoured  to  overcome  ;  with 
my  mother  I  might  have  had  a  harder  trial. 
Mature  reflection  shall  now  determine  my  , 
mind.  Granby,  I  must  have  some  end  in 
view,  some  point  to  vary  the  monotony  of 
existence.     I  cannot  lounge  in  Bond-street 


7*  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

all  the  morning,  or  ride  in  the  Park  to  shew 
my  horses,  and  eternally  frequent  the 
haunts  of  dissipation.  To  trifle  thus  with 
time  surely  is  not  consonant  with  the  ener- 
getic faculties  of  man  ! — Alas  !  why  has 
fate  deprived  me  of  the  blessings  of  domes- 
tic happiness  ! 

"  I  am  yours,  faithfully, 
*'  Edward  Fitsmorxon." 

Edward  dined  at  his  father's  house;  his 
sister  was  inconsolable,  Mrs.  Fitsmorton 
was  studiously  silent  on  the  painful  subject  j 
and  her  husband  took  every  opportunity  to 
reprobate  the  folly  and  indiscretion  of  Emi- 
ly's conduct.  Edward  added  not  to  the 
aggravation  of  the  moment  by  the  confir- 
mation of  her  elopement;  but  Miss  Fits-' 
morton  had  been  herself  to  Mrs.  Grosve- 
nor's  house,  had  seen  Emily's  own  maid, 
and  felt  that  her  exculpation  was  impossi- 
ble. 

After  dinner,  Mary  involuntarily  ex- 
claimed— 

*'  I  am  sure  Emily  will  write  to  me." 

"  The  less  intercourse  between  you  the 
better,"  replied  her  father. 

Thus  silenced,  she  sat  ruminating  on 
Emily's  conduct ;  and  in  mere  vacuity  of 
mind,  when  she  had  dispatched  the  duties 
of  the  tea-table,  she  be^an  to  search  the 


THE  FATAL  CABINET,  73 

work-box  for  employment.  An  unfinished 
purse  of  Emily's  netting-  caught  her  atten- 
tion, it  was  designed  as  a  [jresent  for  Ed- 
ward. She  siguiticantly  held  it  up  to  his 
view,  and  fancied  that  his  countenance 
changed  at  this  testimony  of  Emily's  at- 
tention ;  but  he  immediately  challenged 
his  mother  to  a  game  of  piquet ;  and  Mr. 
Fitsmorton  took  up  a  book,  apparently  en- 
gaged in  its  subject. 

All  parties  were  soon  interrupted  by  a 
loud  knock  at  the  door,  but  having  given 
particular  orders  to  be  denied  to  company 
that  evening,  they  feared  not  the  intrusion 
of  visitors. 

A  light  step  was  heard  upon  the  stairs, 
the  drawing-room  door  was  opened  precipi- 
tately, and  Emily  Grosvenor  stood  before 
them:  with  the  tremulation  of  inquietude, 
but  with  a  countenance  of  conscious  inno- 
cence, she  fell  upon  Mary's  bosom,  and 
could  only  articulate,  "  Now  1  am  again 
happy.''  Her  dark-coloured  riding-habit 
seemed  to  give  new  delicacy  to  the  beauty 
of  her  compjexion,  anxiety  had  increased 
the  roses  on  her  cheeks  ;  and  experiencing 
a  feeling  like  the  sense  of  suffocation,  she 
took  off  her  hat,  at  once  displaying  the  re- 
dundancy of  her  auburn  hair,  and  appeared 
one  of  the  loveliest  figures  nature  ever  for- 
med,    Marv's  emotions  were  audible,- but 


ffO  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

too  incoherent  for  expression.  Mrs.  Fits- 
morton  looked  at  her  in  painful  surprise. 

Edward,  hardly  trusting  to  the  evidence 
of  his  senses,  hastily  approached  her,  and 
only  said, 

"  Do  we,  indeed,  see  Miss  Grosvenor 
returned  ?" 

"  More  probably,"  cried  Mr.  Fitsmorton, 
"  at  least  more  to  be  desired  is  it,  that  we 
should  see  Ladv  Sinclair.  To  what  fortu- 
nate  circumstance  are  we  so  soon  indebted, 
Madam,  for  the  honour  of  a  visit  ?"  gazing* 
rudely  in  her  agitated  countenance. 

Little  Mary,  who  had  been  playing  qui- 
etly in  the  room,  somewhat  relieved  Emi- 
ly^s  embarrassment,  by  running  up  to  her, 
and  expressing  every  feeling  of  infantine 
joy,  entreating  to  be  kissed  and  loved  by 
her  own  dear  Emily,  at  the  same  time  call- 
ing her  very  naughty,  for  having  gone 
away  for  so  long  a  time. 

Emily,  overcome  by  fatigue  and  the  va- 
riety of  emotions  which  at  once  assailed 
her,  burst  into  tears,  and  silence  for  a  few 
minutes  ensued. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton,  in  the  voice  of  com- 
passion, bade  her  "  take  time  to  compose 
her  spirits  ;  that  appearances  were  certain- 
ly much  against  her;  that  she  should  be 
glad  to  have  her  sudden  and  unexpected 
return  properly  accounted  for." 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  81 

'  Emily,  after  having  fondly  caressed  the 
child,  met  the  scrutinizing  eyes  of  her 
riends  with  dignified  composure  ;  and, 
;urning  towards  Mrs.  Fitsmorton,  she 
aroudly  exclaimed — 

"  If  there's  a  God  in  heaven,  I  am  inno- 
cent !" 

Her  solemn  and  forcible  appeal  reached 
every  heart,  Mr.  Fitsmorton's  excepted. 
He  congratulated  her  on  outwitting  her 
.mother's  intentions,  but  feared  she  would 
find  some  difficulty  in  reconciling  her  to 
50  reasonable  an  exchange. 

Edward,  hurt  at  his  father's  inhumanity, 
said  : — - 

"  Let  us  recollect.  Sir,  that  the  greatest 
culprit  is  entitled  to  justification,  and  I 
liave  little  doubt,  but  that  Miss  Grosve- 
nor-^" 

His  voice  faltered,  he  hesitated,  he  recol- 
lected the  man-servant's  evidence  of  her 
elopement,  and  in  silence  traversed  the 
room,  though  evidently  in  much  perturba'- 
tion  of  mind. 

Emily  had  recovered  her  fortitude,  and 
looking  at  Edward  for  a  moment,  as  if  she 
would  say,  do  you  also  condemn  me  ?  she 
replied  :  "  After  the  sacred  appeal  I  have 
dared  to  m^ke  to  the  Almighty,  J  trust  that 
a  brief  but  plain  statement  of  facts  will 
convince  my  once  parental  friends  of  my 
innocence/' 


82  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Edward  breathed  with  difficulty  ;  Mary 
pressed  her  hand  in  silence  ;  and  she  then 
proceeded  to  give  an  account  of  all  that  had 
passed,  and  explained  the  motives  which 
induced  her  so  seek  Mrs.  Mason's  protec- 
tion. '  The  unvarnished  tale  of  truth/ 
pressed  conviction  on  the  minds  of  al^j 
Mrs.  Fitsmorton  embraced  her  with  ma- 
ternal affection,  whilst  Mary,  sobbing  like 
a  child,  could  onl}'^  say  : 

"  How  could  she  be  suspected  of  any 
unworthy  conduct  !"  Edward,  abashed  by, 
the   suspicions   which    had   disturbed   hi^ 
mind,  imprecated  curses  on  the  man  whq 
had  attempted  to  deceive  Emily  Grosvenor. 
In  short,  some  time  necessarily  elapsed  be 
fore  she  could  continue  to  narrate  the  more 
minute  parts  of  her  little  history,  or  men- 
tion the  kind  consideration  of  Dr.  Leices- 
ter, who  purposely  had  permitted  her  t 
plead  her  own  cause,  convinced  of  its  sue 
cess  from  the  lips  of  innocence  and  truth 
fie  had  accompanied  her  in  the  chaise  t' 
Mr.    Fitsmorton's    door,   promising  to   b 
with  her  in  the  morning,  to  introduce  him 
self  to  her  friends,  and  to  talk  over  plan 
for  her  future  welfare  and  happiness.     Ani 
novy,   how   forcibly,   how  bitterly  did   he 
mother's  conduct  recur  to  her  mind  !  Sh 
truly  guessed   that  the  Fitsmortons   wer 
no  strangers  to  its  notoriety;  and  whe 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  ss 

^iie  retired  to  re^t,  the  subject  being  deli- 
iately  led  to  by  Mary,  a  conversation  ensii- 
•d,  which,  in  a  great  measure,  prevented 
bat  quiet  repose  her  harassed  mind  so 
luch  required. 

"  Ah  !  Mnry,^'  she  said,  "  were  my  mo- 
her  like  yours,  how  happy'  had  been  my 
■)t !  You  can  re^^t  with  confidence  on  a 
lother's  bosom,  m  any  distress  or  perplex- 
ity. You  can  never  fear  her  severity,  even 
i*om  the  confession  of  any  youthful  folly." 
uch  an  attachment  is  surely  the  height 
'f  human  friendship  ! 

Mary  wept  bitterJy,  which  Emily  attri- 
utino:  to  recent  occurrences  bavins:  over- 
lowered  her  weak  and  dejected  spirits,  she 
/ished  her  friend  good-night,  and  then 
ought  in  sleep  an  oblivion  of  all  her  anxie- 
ies. 


S4,  THE  FATAL  CABINET, 

CHAP.  V. 

Dr.  Leicester's  visit  in  the  morning 
would  have  iuUy  corroboriiteci  Lvuiiy^s  sim- 
ple story,  had  tiiere  required  any  proof  of 
its  veracity  ;  but  she  was  as:ain  received  to 
the  hearts  of  her  friends,  uuu  bv  so  respect- 
able a  protection  contradicted  the  reports 
which  were  circulating  to  hci-  disadvantage. 
Dr.  Leicester  took  leave  of  her  with  paren 
tal  regard,  and  repeated  his  earnest  wishe 
that  their  acquaintance,  though  so  hastih 
commenced,  might  end  in  a  long  continuJ 
ance  of  friendship  and  affection  ;  nor  wouk 
he' be  satisfied  till   Emily  had  promised  V 
pay  a  visit  at  the  rectory,  as  soon  as  con 
venient  to  herself,  after  the  return  of  hi 
wife  from  Harwich. 

Emily  wrote  to  her  mother  a  full  excul 
pation  of  any  deliberate  intention  of  elop 
ing   with   Sir   George  Sinclair,  expressin 
the  most  delicate  and  dutiful  wishes  to  h 
admittejd  to  her  presence.     Mrs.  Grosvenc 
answered  the  letter  in  such  terms  of  abus?  ■ 
and  with  so  many  protestations  of  abandon  J 
ing  ber  for  ever,  accusing  her  of  the  mo.> 
criminal  duplicity  of  conduct,  that  Emil 
sunk,  for  a  time,  under  the  disgrace  whic 
she  fancied  awailed  her,  by   her  mother 
apostacy  from  virtue  and  decorum  ;  and  tc 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  «5 

soon  every  presage  of  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  un- 
worthiness  was  fatally  accomplished.  She 
saw  the  approach  of  the  inevitable  ruin  of 
fortune  and  of  character;  and  as  she  could 
not,  with  ev^ery  exertion  of  art^ entrap  the 
wary  peer  into  marriage,  she,  at  length,  ac- 
cepted his  protection,  as  a  companion  for 
his  continental  tour  ;  stipulated  that  she 
might  bear  his  name;  and  left  the  country, 
glorying  in  the  luxuries  and  comforts,  in 
the  splendour  and  eclat,  which  the  rank 
and  affluence  of  Lord  Sedley  would  ensure 
to  her. 

Emily  now,  indeed,  required  the  utmost 
efforts  of  fortitude  to  support  her  shockt^d 
and  distressed  mind  ;  and  what  sh^  never 
before  had  seriously  considered,  poverty  and 
dependance  were  becoming  her  undeserved 
portion. 

To  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  she  seriously  open- 
ed her  heart ;  modestly,  but  resolutely  de- 
claring she  vi^ould  pursue  some  respectable 
occupation  to  secure  to  herself  the  bread  of 
independence. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  applauded  tRese  lauda- 
ble resolutions,  but  with  every  affectionate 
argument  she  endeavoured  to  persuade  her 
to  remain  in  town  some  time  longer,  and 
then  to  pay  her  promised  visits  i'>  Mrs. 
Mason  aud  to  Dr.  Leicester,  by  such  an 

VOL.  r.  8 


80  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

arrangement,  time  and  consideration  would 
nlore  properly  determine  her  future  plans. 
Maria  Sandtord  added  to  Emily's  dis- 
tressing feelings,  by  calling  one  morning 
and  overvv^ielmmg  her  with  invectives 
against  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  proceedings : 
"  And  now,"  she  continued,  "  now,  what 
have  1  got  for  all  my  patient  endurance  of 
her  caprices  and  follies?  Not  one  farthing 
has  she  .ever  offered  me  since  I  have  been 
in  the  house — Such  dissipation  and  extrav- 
agance I  have  been  witness  to! — In  truth, 
1  might  have  foretold  her  ruin  !  The  goods 
of  the  house  are  seized,  and  she  has  cruelly 
lefr  me  in  a  scene  of  desolation  ;  and  left 
you,  her  only  child,  to  misery  and  want  ! 
Oh  !  could  I  ever  have  thought  that  any 
one  of  your  family,  would  have  thus  dis- 
graced themselves  ! — A  kept  mistress  ! 
merciful  heaven  !  But  you  are  pale  and  ill, 
Emily.  I  am  sure  I  did  not  mean  to  dis- 
tress you."  _ 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  interfered,  and  recom- 
mended patience  and  resignation  to  Miss 
Sand  ford. 

Emily,  recovering  her  spirits,  said,  "  It 
is  my  earnest  request  that  you,  Maria,  will 
never  mention  my  mother's  name  to  me, 
unless  you  can  do  so  with  moderation  and 
patience.  My  best  advice  now  is,  that  you 
immediately  return  to  your  uncle's  house; 


THE  FATAL  CABINET,  87 

that  you  endeavour  to  forget  the  past ;  for 
remember,  it  is  the  great  criterion  of  a  libe- 
ral mind  to  sink  in  oblivion  irremediable 
injuries." 

Miss  Sandford  alisolutely  cried  from  vex- 
ation at  the  idea  of  leaving  London,  and 
recapitulated  the  various  hardships  she 
should  endure  in  her  uncle's  large  and 
troublesome  family  ;  but  it  were  unneces- 
sary to  dwell  minutely  on  this  subject, — 
Maria  was,  at  length,  persuaded  to  return 
to  her  uncle,  and  the  generosity  of  Mrs. 
Fitsmorton  fully  satisfied  all  her  pecuniary 
neces&ities. 

Emily's  mind  was  naturall}''  a  strong  one, 
and  when  the  first  tumult  of  distress  and 
disappointment  had  subsided,  she  suppres- 
sed her  wishes  for  solitude,  and  endeavour- 
ed, by  constant  employment,  to  check  the 
emotions  of  sensibility,  which  are  only  un- 
controulable  bv  an  erroneous  indulgence. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  urged  her  to  accompany 
the  family  to  the  theatre  and  the  opera,  and 
to  join  the  respectable  society  of  their 
friends  ;  kindly,  but  delicately  susfgestiiig, 
that  such  a  line  of  conduct  was  the  only 
method  to  silence  the  voice  of  calumny. 

Edward  Fitsmorton  was  now  their  con- 
stant attendant.  Every  kind  attention  that 
friendly  love  could  devise,  was  sedulously 
offered  by  him.     Books,  music,  drawing, 


SS  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

all  species  of  amusement  which  could  be- 
guile her  of  distressing  reflections,  were  se- 
lected for  Emily  Grosvenor. 

Mr.  Fitsmorton  was,  perhaps,  a  keener 
observer  than  his  morose  habits  indicated. 
He  had  of  late  fancied  he  saw  an  unwar- 
rantable partiality  between  the  young  peo- 
ple ;  ^nd  even  taxed  his  wife  for  encourag- 
ing it;  at  the  same  time  hinting,  that  he 
thought  Emily  was  living  in  idleness,  when 
she  ought  to  be  anxious  for  some  occupa- 
tion. Mrs.  Fitsmorton  dared  not  support 
her  favourite  as  she  wished  to  do,  knowing 
that  to  exasperate  by  contradiction,  was 
not  the  plan  to  pursue.  She,  therefore, 
mildly  listened  to  her  husband's  illiberal 
reflections,  and  endeavoured  to  palliate  the 
circumstances  from  whence  they  originated. 
But  soon  a  trifling  incident  which  occurred 
at  the  theatre  again  aroused  his  suspicions, 
raid  eventually  brought  on  an  explanation 
of  Edward's  sentiments.  In  the  middle  of 
the  last  act  of  the  play,  some  young  men 
had  nearly  forced  themselves  into  the  box 
where  the  Fitsmortons  were  sitting,  and 
were  rudely  gazing  at,  and  remarking  Emi- 
ly Grosvenor.  Edward  endeavoured  to  sub- 
due the  impetuosity  of  his  feelings.  One 
of  them  continued  to  hold  the  door  in  his 
hand,  notwithstanding  many  repetitions  of, 
*••  Shut  the  door,"  from  the  interior  of  the 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  9§ 

box.  At  length,  Edward  stood  up,  and  in 
a  commanding  tone,  again  called  out, 
"  Shut  the  door."  This  produced  an  im- 
perious answer  from  one  of  the  most  intox- 
icated of  the  young  men;  and,  though  lit- 
tle in  a  condition  either  to  argue  or  to  fight, 
he  attempted  the  one,  and  talked  of  the 
other. 

Emily  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  Edward  be 
moderate,  for  the  sake  of  those  that  love 
you." 

Fascinated  by  her  voice  and  manner,  he 
stooped  to  whisper  something  tender  and 
conciliating,  when  one  of  the  intrusive  par- 
ty called  out  to  know  "  who  it  was  that 
disturbed  the  audience  1" 

Before  Edward  could  reply,  Mrs.  Fits- 
morton,  with  infinite  presence  of  mind, 
turned  round  to  the  questioner,  and  said, 
"  Sir,  it  was  at  my  request  that  the  door 
was  so  frequently  desired  to  be  shut." 

The  gentleman  who  last  spoke,  and  who 
appeared  to  be  the  least  inebriated  of  the 
party,  bowed  ;  and  immediately  answered  : 

"  A  lady,s  request  can  never  be  unat- 
tended to  ;"  and,  whisperino:  to  his  violent 
companion,  they  suddenly  left  the  box,  to 
the  great  comfort  of  Emily.  Edward  had 
ascertained  that  the  intruders  were  some 
of  Sir  George  Sinclair's  companions,  and 
jealous  of  E-milv^s  consequence  and  honour, 
8* 


9»  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

it  was  with  much  ditiiculty  he  could  per- 
suade himselt  to  let  them  depart  in  peace, 

Mr.  Fitsmorton  had  been  a  watchtul  ob- 
server ot"  this  scene,  and  the  next  day  he 
seriously  expostulated  with  Mrs.  Fitsmor- 
ton for  so  long  detaining  Emily  in  the  tami- 
Jy,  again  taxed  her  with  having  encourag- 
ed Edward's  nonsensical  preteren*  e  of  a 
girl  so  situated.  Of  course,  she  denied  the 
charge,  and  declared,  that  she  believed 
Emily  had  little  suspicion  that  she  was 
the  object  of  their  present  altercation. 

"  Yes,"  he  satirically  ansv  ered,  "  a  ve- 
ry likely  story  that  she  cannot  perceive 
what  is  so  evident  to  others.      Your  sex 

are   generally   d d    cleai-sighted   upon 

these  occasions.  A  fine  settlemrut  for  iife^ 
a  fine  salvo  for  all  the  disgrace  her  mother 
brings  into  her  family,  would  be  a  marriage 
with  mine  !  By  heavens  !  Madam,  th"uuh 
you  know  how  much  1  love  my  son,  I 
would  be  estranged  from  him  for  ever,  rath- 
er than  consent  to  such  a  degradation  !" 

Here  Mrs.  Fitsmorton,  irritated  by  her 
husband's  manner,  and  warm  in  Emily's 
favour,  endeavoured  to  controvert  his  illi- 
beral ideas,  and  even  ventured  to  hint  Mrs. 
Grosvenor's  depravity  could  never  disgrace 
her  daughter. 

The  gathering  storm  was  bursting  into 
words.     Mr,  Fitsmorton  told  her  that  he 


THE  FATAL  CABINET. 


91 


was  more  and  more  convinced  she  had  abet- 
ted and  encouraged  an  attachment  so  det- 
rimental to  the  happiness  ol  liis  family,  and 
was  proceeding  to  tart  her  violence  of  lan- 
guage, when  Edv^aid,  who  had  been  in  the 
adjoiningdravv  ine -room,  in  vol  unlaniy  heard 
the  causf^  of  their  dispute.  He  now  en- 
tered, and  beint^  rather  roughly  accosted  by 
his  fiiher  on  me  subject,  he  replied  : 

*'  Had  you.  Sir,  openly  and  candidly 
spoken  to  me  instead  of  thus  accusing  my 
mother,  my  answer  would  have  been  proriipt 
and  decisive.  But  hetbre  we  investigate 
the  affair,  periTiit  me  to  assure  you  that 
she  is  entirly  innocent  of  your  undeserved 
accusations.  My  dear  mother,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  let  me  lead  you  to  your  dressing- 
room,"  affectionately  kissing  her,  "  my  fe- 
ther  and  I  shall  best  discuss  this  subject 
alone."  So  sayina:,  he  with  gentle  force 
conducted  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  to  her  apart- 
ment, and  then  returned  to  the  drawing- 
room. 

"  You  carry  all  things  with  a  high  hand. 
Sir,"  was  his  father's  first  nnirracious  remark. 

"  1  am  at  a  loss  to  comprehend  your 
meaning,  Sir." 

"  It  is  very  evident  to  me  that  Emily 
Grosvenor  and  you  are  mutually  attached." 

Edward  bowed — *'  Sir,  you  much  rejoice 
me  by  this  intelligence  ;  for  I  take  heayen 


92  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

to  witness,  I  knew  not  of  Miss  Grosvenor'a 
enchanting  preference." 

"  No  prevarication,  Sir,  do  you  not  in- 
tend to  make  her  your  wife  ?" 

"1  will  be  very  candid  in  my  answer. 
When  first  1  became  acquainted  with  Miss 
Grosvenor,  I  was  suffering  from  disappoint- 
ment and  affliction  ;  her  artless  attentions 
excited  ray  gratitude,  and  her  society  could 
alone  arouse  the  faculties  of  my  mind  into 
action.  I  thought  1  should  ever  love  her 
as  a  sister,  though  even  then  she  sometimes 
reminded  me  of  the  angel  1  had  lost.  1  will 
be  sincere  enough  to  confess,  that  I  knev7 
not  the  extent  of  my  regard,  until  1  thought 
she  had  eloped  with  Sir  George  Sinclair.. 
I  endeavoured  to  despise  the  indiscretion 
and  frivolity  of  her  character,  yet  the  agi- 
tation of  my  feelings  convinced  me  how 
much  1  lamented  her  apostacy  from  deco- 
rum, and  that  time  alone  could  restore  se- 
renity to  my  mind. 

"  VV^hen  she  appeared  before  us,  radiant 
in  virtue  and  in  truth  !  who  can  compre- 
hend emotions  1  experienced  ;  they  were 
even  undefinable  to  myself! 

"  Since  this  period,  Sir,  I  have  daily  wit- 
nessed her  manifold  perfections,  and  were 
I  assured  of  her  reg^ard,  it  mii^ht  he  the 
means  of  formmg  my  yet  unsteady  charac-^ 
ter/* 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  93 

**  Then  my  surmises  are  just;  but,  by 
heaven  !  I  vvill  never  consent  to  so  ill-jiklg- 
ed,  so  disgraceful  an  union  !  Ally  yourself 
to  depravity  !  to  a  woman  who,  however 
infamous  in  her  conduct,  is  still  the  mother 
of  Emily  Grosvenor!" 

"  Recollect,  Sir,  it  is  the  daughter,  not 
the  mother,  1  would  many.  There  never 
was  a  purer  mind  than  Emily  Grosvenor^s, 
nor  can  she  fail  to  be  respected,  standing 
firmly  on  the  basis  of  her  own  intrinsic 
merit.  She  appears  to  be  every  thing  the 
heart  of  man  can  wish." 

"  This  is  very  high-flown  language,  lov- 
er-like expressions  indeed  !  And  I  am  then 
to  understand  that  this  paragon  of  perfec- 
tion is  to  be  received  into  our  family  ?  to 
the  destruction  of  the  hopes  1  had  encourag- 
ed, that  if  ever  you  married  again,  you 
would  give  us  a  respectable  daughter  in 
the  person  of  Jemima  Travers?" 

Stung  viith  indign-^^tion  at  his  father's 
manner,  and  fearful  of  answering  him  im- 
properly on  the  subject,  he  said — 

*'  We  will,  if  3'ou  please,  defer  the  con- 
versation. 1  wish  to  be  accessary  to  your 
happiness  ;  but,  in  justice  to  myself,  I  must 
Iclaim  the  privilege  of  also  consulting  my 
own.  The  lady  you  have  mentioned  can 
never  be  my  wife.  My  future  fate  must 
rest  upon  the  determination  of  Emily  Gros» 
venor  herself."  .  . 


9*  THE  FATAL  CABINET.  ] 

He  then  left  his  father,  too  much  agitat- 
ed to  meet  his  mother  or  Emily,  and  though 
he  did  violence  to  his  inclination,  he  ab-| 
sented  himself  from  his  father's  house  for, 
some  days,  not  having  resolution  to  decidei 
his  fate  immediately.  Love  being  gene- 
rally full  of  doubt  and  apprehension,  he  as 
often  pictured  to  himself  Emily's  refusal, 
as  he  did  her  assent  to  his  proposals. 

Mrs.  Filsmorton  suffered  much  from  her 
husband's  unfeeling  reproaches,  at  his  con- 
viction that  she  had  encourage'd  her  son'^ 
partiality  for  Emily  ;  who  saw  with  pain 
that  her  kind  and  friendly  adviser  was  pe 
culiarly  unhappy.  Just  at  this  period  sh( 
received  a  very  atTectionate  letter  from  Mrs 
Mason,  pointing  out  to  her  a  safe  and  re 
spectable  conveyance  to  Ipswich,  with  eve 
ry  persuasion  that  friendship  could  sugges 
to  induce  Emilv  to  make  her  the  long  pro 
mised  visit.  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  gave  an  un 
willing  consent,  and  every  thing  was  sooi 
arranged  for  the  journey.  Emily  seemec 
to  leave  her  heart  behind  her,  and  wit| 
many  sisterly  remembrances  to  Edwar 
Fitsmorton,  thousrh  his  late  absence  ha 
appeared  to  her  very  extraordinary,  sfi| 
tore  herself  from  the  embrace  of  the  wee| 
ing  Mary,  and  left  London  with  varioi, 
and  distressing  feelina^s. 

When  settled  in  Mrs.  Mason's  comfor 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  gs 

'lablc  habitation,  the  image  of  Fdward  Fits- 
morton   would  intrude  ;  she  even  avowed 
'to  lier  own  heart,  that  she  loved  him  as  a 
brother,  and  esteemed  him  as  a  t'riend  ;'  and 
felt  hurt  that  he  had  absented  himself  from 
his  father's  house  for  some  days,  without 
any  ostensible  reason,  when  he  knew  she 
was  so  soon  to  leave  town  ;  and,  at  length, 
reasoned  herself  into   the  belief,  that   her 
jdisappointments  and  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  dis- 
grace had  made  her  society  less  interesting 
'to  him  than  usual.     Then,  instantly  check- 
ing such  vain  and   useless  retrospections, 
she  sought  in  the  casual  employment  and 
'amusement  of  the  day,  relief  from  her  op- 
pressive and  uneasy  refl«H'tions.     She  soon 
began  to  consult  Mrs.   Mason  on  plans  for 
her  future  life  ;  that  kind   iriend  only  re- 
quested that  she  would  consider  herself  at 
!  home,  and  take  time  and  deliberation  to 
resolve  on  so  important  a  subject. 

When   Edward   Fitsmorton    tbuad    that 
1  Emily  had  left  his  father's  house  during  the 
[few  days  of  his  absence,  he  immedialely 
'-confessed  to  his  mother  and  sister  his  fu- 
[  ture  intentions,  and  well  cudd  he  discover 
1  that  nothin4'  but  Mr.  Fjrsm^)rtOii's  unwar- 
'i  rantable  repugnence  to  the  match  prevent- 
ed  their  full  avow^al  of  the  most  unquali- 
fied approbation.     He  so:ight  an-^^^tlx^r/'on- 
.ference   with   his  father,   and   again   they 


96  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

parted  in  dissatisfaction  and  anger  ;  deter- 
mined to  know  if  Eaiily  regarded  him  as 
he  wished,  decisitju  followed  the  delibera- 
tion of  a  moment,  and  throwing  himself 
into  a  post-chai'^e,  he  was  on  the  road  to 
Ipswich  without  any  one  suspecting  his 
intentions. 


I 


THE  FATAL  CABINET. 


CHAP.   VI. 


Edward  Fitsmorton's  arrival  at  Ips- 
.vvicli  was  tp  Emily,  at  the  first  moment  of 
their  meeting,  higlily  graiitying.  Too  inte- 
rested on  the  subject  nearest  his  lieart  to 
dwell  long  upon  any  other,  he  soon  sought 
an  opportunity  to  confess  his  unalterable 
attachment,  that  his  future  hopes  of  hap- 
piness depended  upon  her  alone,  and  await- 
ed in  tremulous  anxiety  for  a  sincere  avow- 
al of  her  sentiments. 

Emily's  answer  gave  hini  little  reason  to 
despair;  he  read  in  her  countenance  the 
y^y  his  unexpected  presence  atTorded  her. 
The  delusions  of  hope  gilded  the  passing 
hour,  and  they  parted  in  the  evening,  anti- 
cipating a  morning's  conversation,  when 
they  could  more  fully  arrange  future  plans 
of  happiness.  But  Emily  was  long  k(^pt 
awake  in  tracing  hack  their  conference,  and 
in  blaming  herself  for  having  encouraged 
Edward's  hopes  without  the  consent  of  ^Ir. 
and  Mrs.  Fitsmorton.  She  thought  she 
had  been  too  candid,  and  too  unguarded 
in  her  expressions  ;  and  she  felt  that  when 
her  heart  was  so  much  interested,  it  was 
difficult  to  mark  the  bounds  where  indis- 
cretion commences,  determining,  when 
they  met  in  the  morning,  to  know  if  jNIr, 

VOL.  I.  9 


''*!^ 


9?  THK  FATAL  CABINET. 

Fitsmorton's   consent  had  sanctioned   the 
wishes  of  his  son. 

Emily's  countenance,  at  the  breakfast 
hour,  bor6  the  traces  of  anxiety,  and  she 
replied  to  all  Edward's  tender  inquiries 
with  an  unusual  agitation  of  manner.  As 
soon  as  they  were  alone,  he  asked  an  ex- 
planation of  the  cause.  Emily  then  reca- 
pitulated her  waking'  reveries,  and  added  : 

"  1  do  not  retract  my  words,  but,  Ed- 
ward, 3^ou  must  indeed  be  more  explicit  on 
the  subject.  Consider  the  peculiarity  of 
my  situation  ;  a  mother's  disgrace  hanging 
over  me !  I  should  have  deferred  my  par- 
tial avowal  in  your  favour,  till  convinced 
that  all  your  family  were  equally  unpreju- 
diced. In  one  word,  what  are  your  father's 
sentiments  1  Does  he  wish — at  least,  does 
he  approve  of  your  intentions  ?" 

"  Dear  Emily,  am  I  to  sacrifice  all  that 
can  endear  existence  if  his  prejudices  are 
not  to  be  overcome?  My  mother  will  glory 
in  my  choice ;  she  will  consider  you  as  a 
blessing  and  an  ornament  to  her  family.— 
Mary  is  already  the  sister  of  your  heart  : 
and  my  child,  though  now  too  young  to 
appreciate  the  advantages  she  will  receive, 
will  hereafter  convince  you  of  her  grati- 
tude." 

"  Hold  not  out  such  flattering  prospects 
to  my  view — tempt  me  not  to  act  unwor- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  99 

thily — I  will  never  receive  your  addresses 
witliout  Mr.  Fitsmorton's  approbation.^' 

"  Emily,  I  have  mistaken  your  charac- 
ter ;  I  thought  you  a  lovely  disinleresting 
being,  whose  heart  throbbed  in  unison  with 
mine,  who — '' 

She  interrupted  him,  saying:  "  This  is, 
indeed,  too  much,  and  nothing  but  the  con- 
sciousness of  not  deserving  your  unkind- 
ness  can  meliorate  the  acuteness  of  my  feel- 
ings. 1  have,  perhaps,  been  imprudent  in 
prematurely  confessing  my  regard  for  you, 
but  judge  of  its  sincerity,  when  1  say,  I 
cannot  retract  it !  and  if  your  father  consent 
to  our  union,  I  could  look  forward  to  eve- 
ry prospect  of  felicity." 

Edward  earnestly  wished  to  persuade  her 
that  his  father  would  very  soon  be  recon- 
ciled to  their  marriage  ;  that  he  himself  was 
sufficiently  independent  to  secure  to  her 
all  the  comforts,  if  not  the  luxuries,  of  life  ; 
and  that  he  had  once  thought — '  An  ele- 
s^ant  sufficiencv'  would  content  a  mind 
resting  on  a  firmer  basis  for  happiness  than 
on  the  tinselled  pageantry  which  riches 
might  command.  Notwithstandinsf  all  the 
sophistry  of  his  persuasions,  Emily  remain- 
ed firm  and  decisive,  and  they  parted  in 
that  species  of  sorrowing  anger  which  lov- 
ers have-a  thousand  times  felt,  and  a  thou- 
sand   times    overcome.     Before    Edward 


lOO  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

reached  London,  he  repented  of  the  harsh- 
ness of  his  behaviour,  and  on  arriving  at 
home,  he  wrote  a  letter  to  Emily,  solicit- 
ing her  pardon  for  what  had  passed  ;  at  the 
same  time  urging  her  not  to  drive  him  to 
despair,  as  it  might  be  the  means  of  his  ar- 
ranging future  plans,  which  would  little  ac- 
cord with  the  happiness  of  either  party. 

In  answer  to  which  letter,  Emily  wrote 
as  follows : 

To  Edward  Fifsmorton,  Esq. 

"  Would  that  I  knew%  my  dear  friend,  in 
what  language  to  soothe  your  mind  to 
peace  !  and  at  the  same  time  to  convince 
you,  that  I  am  only  swayed  by  delicacy  and 
prudence,  from  the  conviction  that  our 
mutual  unhappiness  would  ensue  were  I 
now  to  accede  to  your  proposals.  What- 
ever prejudices  your  father  has  imbibed, 
they  are  the  prejudices  of  the  world,  and  I 
am  persuaded  that  a  serious  breach  with 
him  would  be  the  consequence  of  your 
marriage  with  me.  The  supposition  of 
your  independence,  in  every  sense  of  the 
word,  may  lead  you  to  imagine  that  this 
would  only  prove  a  transient  regret  and 
unhappiness.  But,  Edward,  consider,  how 
would  the  increasing  misery  of  your  mother 
embitter  all   your  days  !    Our  dear  Mary 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  161 

too !  what  a  task  she  would  have  to  per- 
form !  The  prejudices  of  one  parent,  and 
the  grief  of  the  other,  constantly  giving  rise 
to  distressing  altercation.  And,  oh  !  my 
dear  friend  !  all  this  for  me !  for  one  whose 
mother  is  marked  with  disgrace,  who  is  her- 
self suddenly  become  a  destitute  being, 
from  unforeseen  disappointment  ! 

"  Misunderstand  me  not,  to  your  noble, 
your  generous  nature,  these  pleas,  situated 
as  we  are,  would  prove  irresistible  claims 
on  your  heart  and  affections  ;  but  never  will 
I  take  advantage  of  such  generosity!  never 
will  I  enter  into  your  family  as  a  suppliant 
and  a  beggar,  though  my  heart  break  in  the 
eventful  struggle  between  duty  and  love  ! 
Be  convinced  that  your  happiness  is  dearer 
to  me  than  my  own  ;  and  also  recollect 
what  prospect  in  life  I  refuse,  and  what 
prospect  I  look  forward  to !  Exert  then, 
dear  Edward,  the  stability  of  your  mind, 
and  be  assured  that  I  shall  ever  remain 
"  Your  affectionate  well-wisher 
and  friend, 

*'  Emily  Grosvenor." 

The  Answer. 

To  Miss  Grosvenor. 

"  Emily,  how  I  envy  the  habitual  tem- 
per of  your  mind !  you  that  can  sacrifice 
9  * 


103  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

every  tender  consideration  to  the  cold  dic- 
tates of  reason  and  of  prudence  !  Disap- 
pointment presses  hard  upon  my  spirits. 
My  resolutions  are  irrevocably  taken.  I 
will  write  to  you  once  more  ;  and  a  long 
adieu  will  probably  terminate  our  corres- 
pondence ! 

Edward  Fitsmorton.*' 

When  Emily  perused  this  letter,  the  first 
impulse  of  her  heart  would  have  induced 
her  to  recant  the  resolutions  she  had  tor- 
med.  To  Mrs.  Mason  she  confided  the 
particulars  of  her  situation,  and  with  trem- 
bling inipatience  awaited  for  the  advice 
she  had  requested. 

Mrs.  Mason  said  :  "  The  part  you  have 
to  sustain  is  of  a  very  perplexing  and  deli- 
cate nature  ;  but,  my  dear  girl,  you  cannot 
weakly  yield  where  your  deliberate  judg- 
ment convinces  you  of  the  fallacy  of  such 
a  conduct.  Mr.  Fitsmorton  has  written  to 
you  in  great  trepidation  of  spirits ;  trust 
me,  when  this  is  past,  you  will  rise  higher 
in  his  esteem  ;  that  you  have  really  acted 
from  principle,  not  to  be  shaken  by  his 
blameable  reproaches,  or  his  obscure  hints 
of  the  future.  Recollect  that  the  same 
motives,  the  same  circumstances,  still  cal 
vipon  you  for  exertion  as  when  you  las 
wrote  to  him." 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  f«i 

Emily  interrupted  her:  "  1  am  ashamed 
that  d  momentary  weakness  should  have 
thus  prevailed.  1  am  still  the  same  pro- 
scribed desolate  being  ;  too  proud  to  steal 
inio  a  family  ;  and  where  1  should  wider 
spread  iis  domestic  unhappiness,  even  with- 
out ensuring  my  own."  So  Emily  telt, 
and  so  she  thouoht,  but  the  hours  passed 
heavily  on,  and  she  looked  towards  the  fu- 
ture in  fearful  anxiety,  and  on  the  past 
with  unavailinia:  regret.  Mrs.  Grosvenor 
was  ever  present  to  her  mind.  To  think 
that  the  being  to  whom  she  owed  her  ex- 
istence, h;id  for  ever  lost  all  claim  to  re- 
spectability, was  torture  to  her  bosom  ;  and 
there  were  times  when  she  felt  so  degraded 
by  her  mother's  conduct,  that  obscurity 
through  life  appeared  to  be  the  fate  she 
ought  to  wish  for;  and  she  hoped  that  the 
exertions,  which  of  necessity  she  would 
so(Mi  be  compelled  to  make  to  gain  her  own 
livelihood,  would  prove  easier  in  their  prac- 
tice than  her  imagination  represented  them. 

How  often  does  the  mind,  when  sur- 
rounded by  the  blessings  of  prosperity, 
swell  with  oroud  exultation  at  the  idea  of 
gaining  an  hon  >urable  independence,  by 
the  exertions  of  industry,  perseverance,  and 
fortitude  !  and  how  often,  when  such  boast- 
ed theory  is  reduced  to  practice,  does  it 
shrink  from  the  mortifications  annexed  te 


184  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

poverty  and  dependence  !  Such  is  human 
nature!  au:]  nothing  but  the  consciousness 
ot  acting  from  the  dictates  of  a  virtuous 
fortitude,  can  counteract  the  despondency 
which  the  gloomy  prospects  of  poverty 
holds  forth  to  those  vv'ho  have  possesed  the 
comforts  and  blessings  of  an  affluent  for- 
tune ! 

After  Edv»^ard  Fitsmorton  had  written 
his  last  short  letter  to  Emily,  he  resolved 
to  enter  into  the  army  ;  and  fancying  his 
determination  irrevocable,  he  attended  his 
father's  usual  invitation  to  dine  with  appa- 
rent composure.  Miss  Travers  was  spend- 
ing a  few  days  at  the  house,  and  when 
seated  between  her  and  his  sister  at  dinner- 
time, he  even  attempted  something  like 
gaiety  in  his  conversation.  Mr.  Fitsmor- 
ton exulted  in  the  thought  that  Edward 
might  one  day  or  other  be  sensible  of  Miss 
Traver's  attractions,  and  all  things  gomg 
right  in  the  culinary  department,  no  pas- 
sing cloud  disturbed  the  serenity  of  the 
moment.  Edward's  occasional  reveries 
were  however  various  and  unpleasant;  he 
already  repented  of  the  decisive  letter  he 
had  written  to  Emily.  He  hoped  she 
would  relent,  that  she  would  request  an 
explanation  of  his  laconic  epistle;  and  this 
vague  expectation  contributed  to  his  tri- 
fling away  a  few  days,  wishing  for  a  tem- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  icr. 

porary  reprieve  before  he  executed  his  reso- 
lutions. 

By  Mr.  Fitsmorton's  arrangement,  some 
tete-a-  t6tes  were  contrived  between  Edward 
and  Miss  Travers.  Her  good  spirits  had 
amused  the  whole  family,  and  though  she 
appeared  of  a  volatile  disposition,  she  dis- 
covered more  of  Mr.  Fitsmor ton's  plans 
than  he  imagined  ;  and  as  she  playfully  en- 
couraged Edward's  attentions,  his  judgment 
became  the  dupe  of  his  wishes  ;  having  also 
been  a  little  tutored  by  Mary,  she  resolved 
to  come  to  a  right  explanation  the  next 
time  chance  or  design  left  her  and  Edward 
together.  This  was  very  soon  accomplish- 
ed, and  after  they  had  settled  the  state  of 
the  weather  and  other  mttresiirig  topics, 
Miss  Travers  could  not  suppress  her  risi- 
bility. Edward,  somewhat  discomposed, 
requested  to  know  what  she  laughed  at  ? 

"  At  you,"  was  her  laconic  reply. 

He  ironically  expressed  his  thunks. 

"  It  would  be  a  great  triumph,"  she 
playfully  continued,  "  to  relax  the  austeri- 
ty of  your  countenance." 

He  smiled,  "  VV^ell,  1  thought  I  possessed 
the  power — when  do  you  begin  to — to — 
pay  your  adoration — to  the  most  angelic 
of  her  sex  ? — Is  not  this  a  lover's  lan- 
guage ?" 

"  Dear  Miss  Travers  ! — Your  conduct  is 


J06  THE  FATAL  CABINET, 

SO  eccentric  ! — How  have  I  deserved  this 
ridicule  ?" 

"  I  will  tell  you,  most  sorrowful  knight 
of  despondency  : — The  worthy  gentleman 
who  has  the  honour  of  being  your  father, 
having  taken  a  great  fancy  either  to  me,  or 
to  my  fortune,  wishes  to  receive  both  into 
his  i'amily  ;  and  the  most  reasonable,  the 
most  honest  method  he  can  devise,  is,  to 
join  you  and  1  in  wedlock's  holy  bands.  I 
do  not  like  the  turns  of  your  countenance, 
Mr.  Fitsmorton  :  Surely  you  do  not  mean 
to  refuse  so  prudent,  so  reasonable  an  al- 
lianc^r^ 

y«?**Could  I  for  a  moment  suppose  Miss 
Travers  to  be  serious,  I  might  perhaps  in- 
genuously answer  her.  If  she  be  only 
sporting  with  the  inquietude  of  my  feelings, 
1  am  at  a  loss  to  make  her  comprehend  the 
pain  she  is  inflicting." 

*'  A  very  rational  monotonous  answer 
indeed!  I  was  in  hopes  of  enjoying  the 
glory  of  refusing  you,  Sir:  but  as  it  is  alii 
the  same  thing  in  the  calendar  of  love, ' 
though  perhaps  not  in  that  of  propriety,  am 
I  to  understand  that  you  refuse  to  marry 
Jemima  Travers,  the  acknowledged  heiress 
of  thousands,  in  opposition  to  paternal 
wishes,  in  opposition  to  convenience,  and 
a  ions:  train  of  prudential  considerations  ?" 

"  Had  1  an  heart  to  bestow—"  *'  I  cannot 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  I07 

just  now  indulge  you  in  the  pathetic.  You 
must  seriously  attend  to  me,  and  believe 
that  under  tne  appearance  of  levity  is  con- 
cealed a  very  anxious  and  susceptible 
heart.'' 

Edward,  still  doubtful  of  her  sentiments, 
bowed,  in  oreathless  expectation  of  what 
she  >vas  about  to  communicate.  She  con- 
tinued, *'  You  are  not  now  to  be  seriously 
told,  that  your  father  wishes  an  union  be- 
tween us  to  take  place.  Our  consent^ how- 
ever is,  1  believe,  still  wanting.  You'^ilttv£ 
your  secrets,  I  have  mine,  and  all  we  have 
to  do,  is  to  convince  him,  that  you  and  I 
cannot  overcome  our  mutual  antipathy." 
'  "  Dear  Miss  Travels !  did  you  not  pro- 
mise to  be  very  serious  I" 

"  I  protest  I  had  nearly  forgotten  the 
promise,  or  rather,  I  wish  to  procrastinate, 
as  long  as  possible  my — my — my  confes- 
sion. Volatile  as  my  temper  may  have  ap- 
peared, how  shall  1  tell  you,  Mr.  Fitsmor- 
ton,  that  my  affections  are  irrevocably  en- 
gaged!  You  are  to  imagine  that  the  oliject 
of  my  regard  is  every  thing  that  is  good  and 
amiable,  and  I  am  only  wailing  till  I  be- 
come of  age  to  bestow  my  lund  and  fortune 
where  I  have  every  prospect  of  permanent 
felicity." 

"  A  thousand  thanks,  my  dear  MissTra- 
vers,   for  your   candour   and   confidence; 


108  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

command  my  best  services,  and  be  assur- 
ed  '' 

"  1  guess  all  you  would  say,  but  I  am 
not  yet  quite  reaily  to  tiiaiik  you  tor  your 
professions;  and — and— ^i  have  been  think- 
ing, that  as  you  kiiovv  my  secret,  whether 
it  Mould  be  very  indecorous  to  guess  at 
yours  ?" 

"  Dear  girl,  I  have  no  secret  !  my  heart 
has  lately  rested  on  a  lovely  interesting  be- 
ing, who  only  bids  me  desj>air  lirom  noble, 
but  mistaken,  principles." 

He  then  recapitulated  all  that  had  passed 
between  himselt  and  Emily,  and  they  part- 
ed oji  terms  of  confidence  and  friendship 
highly  interesting  to  both. 

JNIiss  Travers  took  an  early  opportunity 
to  undeceive  JNlr.  Fitsmorton,  who  had  ex- 
ultingly  marked  the  good  understanding 
Avbich  seemed  to  have  taken  place  between 
her  and  his  son.  She  told  him  that  Mr. 
Edward  Fiisinorton,.having  had  the  temer-| 
ity  to  make  her  an  offer  of  his  hand,  she 
had  made  him  one  of  her  best  curtseys  in 
return,  and  with  great  civility  begged  leave 
to  refuse  the  honour.  She  quarrelled  with 
him,  and  soothed  him  m  a  breath,  main- 
taining- her  OM  n  independency  of  sjiirit,  al 
the  same  time  confessing  her  prior  and  un- 
alterable attachment  to  anf>ther.  Vexedj 
irritated,  and  disappointed,  that  ibis  lavcur  | 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  jog 

ed  aggrandizement  of  his  family  was  for 
ever  frustrated,  the  gloomy  austerity  of  his 
temper  seemed  daily  to  increaeie,  and  Mrs. 
Fitsmorton  often  secretly  lamented  the  do- 
mestic inquietude  she  experienced.  Ed- 
\vard  had  not  acquainted  her  with  his  in- 
tention of  entering  into  the  army  ;  he  felt 
how  severe  the  stroke  would  fall  on  the  bo- 
som of  so  affectionate  a  mother  ;  and  he 
could  not  help  flattering  himself  with  the 
hope  that  Emily's  resolutions  might  be 
"Shaken. — Again  he  wrote  to  her,  and  nar- 
rated all  thnt  had  passed  between  him  and 
Miss  Travers,  and  after  acquainting  her 
with  his  military  plans,  he  thus  concluded 
his  letter  : — • 

"  You  see,  dearest  Emily,  my  fate  rests 
on  you  alone.  One  recanting  word  on  your 
part  ensures  you  mine  for  ever  !  1  entreat 
you  in  the  most  solemn  manner  to  weigh 
Well  every  circumstance,  to  consider  how 
severely  my  mother's  fortitude  will  be  tried 
by  my  embracing  a  military  life  ;  and  not 
to  let  the  false  heroism  of  a  moment  em- 
bitter the  peace  of  those  you  love  :  think 
you  not  that  the  temporary  estrangement 
of  my  father's  cordiality  would  appear 
light  to  her  in  comparison  of,  perhaps,  my 
permanent  banishment?  Oh,  Emily  !  what 
I  have  most  to  contend  with  is  the  proud 
indrpendeucy  of  your  spirit,  which  cannot 

VOL.  I.  10 


no  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

brook  to  enter  into  a  family,  because  one 
individual  ot  it  is  fatally  prejudiced  against 
the  alliance  !  It  is  true  this  individual  is 
my  fatlier,  but  recollect  that  my  spirit  is 
equally  independent  with  your  own  ;  that 
I  am  of  an  age  to  claim  the  privilege  of 
judging  for  myself,  and  that  though  1  would 
willingly  acknowledge  the  proper  duty  of 
a  son,  that  1  cannot  be  blind  to  the  illibe- 
ral prejudices  of  any  human  being,  nor  sub- 
mit to  its  trammels  against  the  conviction 
of  reason  and  deliberate  judgment. 

"  Tell  me  not  that  the  conduct  of  your 
unfortunate  mother  militates  against  your 
complying  with  my  wishes;  tell  me  not 
that,  reduced  by  misfortune  and  disappoint- 
ment, you  cannot  supplicate  to  enter  into 
ray  family,  Emily,  if  your  attachment 
were  equal  to  mine,  you  would  immediate- 
ly become  my  wife,  and  secure  our  happi- 
ness. Why  are  my  oft-repeated  wishes 
answered  by  the  cold  dictates  of  prudence  ? 
Oli,  he  assured,  they  cannot  chill  the  ar-. 
dour  of  an  affection,  like  mine!  an  affec-' 
tion  which  peculiar  circumstances  have  so 
contributed  to  increase,  that  it  can  end  but 
with  my  life.  I  seek  not  to  persuade  you 
by  the  romantic  efilusions  of  passions,  but 
by  the  conviction  of  unbiassed  reason. — 
Consider  well  before  you  determine  my 
fate.     Let  no  false  estimate  of  imacrinarv 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  in''* 

duty  lead  you  to  renounce  for  ever  our  mu- 
tual prospect  of  felicity  !  for  have  you  not, 
my  dearest  Emily,  acknowledged,  that 
Edward  Fitsmorton  is  not  an  object  of  in- 
difference to  you. 

"  Heaven  bless  you !"  ^        * 

Etiiilt/'s  Answer. 

"  The  letter  I  have  this  instant  received 
is  little  calculated  to  soothe  the  perturba- 
tion of  my  mind,  or  to  assist  me  in  arrang- 
ing my  ideas  as  I  ought  to  do.  Only  this, 
my  dear  friend,  I  can  now  say,  on  the 
heart-breaking  subject  ;  that  1  had  not  de- 
termined to  forego  the  sweetest  prospect 
of  human  felicity,  but  from  the  conviction 
of  my  deliberate  judgment. 

"  1  supplicate  you  to  suspend  your  in- 
tentions of  embracing  a  military  life.  Dear 
Edward,  should  your  father  relent  in  my 
favour,  what  a  barrier  to  domestic  happi- 
ness would  you  have  placed  ;  but  above 
all,  think  of  your  mother!  think  how  such 
an  estrangement  from  the  family  would 
wound  her  heart,  without  alleviating  the 
sorrows  of  your  own!  My  dear  friend,  such 
a  life  is  ill  calculated  for  you !  How  I 
should  tremble  for  the  health  and  spirits 
of  your  sister,  were  the  anxiety  of  your 
absence  added  to  her  mind  in  its  present 


112  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

dejected  state  !  Shali  I  say  I  can  well  judge 
of  her  feelings  by  my  own  ?  Do  noi  act 
with  precipitation :  Oh,  that  your  father 
could  read  the  heart  o\'  Emily  Grosvenor  P^ 

Before  Edward  received  the  above  letter, 
Mr.  Fitsmorton  had  spoken  very  explicit- 
ly to  him  in  respect  to  pecuniary  affairs, 
acknowledging  that  Miss  Travers's  fortune 
would  have  been  most  acceptabld  in  the 
family  ;  and  reverting  to  the  romantic  folly 
of  his  attachment  to  Miss  Grosvenor.  To 
along  lecture  on  this  subject  Edward  re- 
plied : 

*'  Miss  Travers  now,  Sir,  is  quite  out  of 
the  question,  and  perhaps  it  may  afford  you 
some  gratification  to  know,  that  1  am  also 
refused  by  Emily  Grosvenor !  she  disdains 
to  be  allied  to  a  family  wherein  every  in- 
dividual will  not  receive  her  with  joy  and 
respect.  She  considers  my  happiness  su- 
perior to  her  own,  and  by  an  erroneous 
calculation,  dooms  me  to  a  life  inimical  to 
my  domestic  habits,  and  probably  detri- 
mental to  my  future  prospects.^^ 

Mr.  Fitsmorton,  with  all  his  apathy  of 
disposition,  appeared  to  feel  the  delicacy 
of  Emily's  conduct,  but  thinking  it  best  to 
be  silent  on  the  subject,  he  requested  an 
explanation  of  Edward's  last  assertion  in 
regard  to  his  future  plans. 

"  I  allude,  Sir,  to  my  adopting  a  military 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  113 

life  ;  the  army  will  be  a  sure  refuge  for  a 
disappointed  heart." 

The  expression  of  Mr.  Fitsmorton's 
countenance  instantly  changed. 

"  The  army  !  the  army  !  Edward,"  he  re- 
pealed ;  "surely  you  cannot  be  serious?" 

"  It  is  not,  Sir,  merely  the  thought  of 
the  moment,  and  1  will  be  very  ingenuous 
with  you.  I  mean  to  make  one  more  at- 
tempt to  subdue  Miss  Grosvenor^s  spirited 
resolves,  and  permit  my  fate  to  be  deter- 
mined by  her  award." 

Mr.  Fitsmorton  replied  with  a  forced 
composure  of  manner,  ''If  your  romantic 
perseverance  succeed,  and  probably  it  may, 
with  an  unprotected  disappointed  girl,  beau 
in  mind,  that  you,  as  the  husband  of  Emi- 
ly Grosvenor,  must  give  up  your  father 
and  family  !"  At  this  moment  Emily's  last 
letter  was  brous-ht  to  Edward  Fitsmorton  ; 
he  read  it  in  great  agitation  of  mind  ;  and 
taking  from  his  pocket  the  longer  one  which 
preceded  it,  he  presented  them  both  to 
his  father,  and  immediately  left  the  room. 

^Ir.  Fitsmorton's  mind  was  proud,  ob- 
stinate, and  weak,  nor  could  he  have  for- 
med an  idea  that  Emily  would  act  so  dis- 
interestedly. The  repugnance  he  felt  to 
receive  her  into  the  family,  a  beggar,  as  he 
termed  her,  stigmatized  with  her  mother's 
depravity,  suppressed  every  thought  favour- 
10  * 


11*  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

able  to  Edward^s  hapjiiness  ;  still  he  loved  . 
his  soil,  he  was  even  proud  ot  him  ;  and 
felt  that  he  was  the  hope  and  ornament  of 
the  family,  and  the  idea  ot  hjs  embracing  a 
military  lite,  was  an  unconquerable  morti- 
fication. A'j;itaied  by  the  various  feelings 
of  the  moment  he  entered  his  wife's  dres- 
sing-room, and  without  any  prelude  to  the 
distressing  subject,  he  said:  "  It  you  are 
not  yet  acquainted,  Madam,  with  your 
dutiful  son's  intentions,  I  must  inform  you 
he  is  going  into  the  army,  because  1  will 
not  disgrace  my  family,  by  countenancing 
his  union  with  Emily  Grosvenor,  who  has 
perhaps  artfully  written  these  letters  on 
purpose  to  dupe  me." 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton,  shocked  and  distressed 
at  the  confirmation  of  intellioence  she  had 
dreaded  to  anticipate,  endeavoured  to  sup- 
press her  own  feelings  to  reason  with  her 
husband  on  the  blessing  he  was  casting 
from  him;  but  far  from  beins:  conciliate4. 
by  her  gentleness,  and  irritate  bv  the  con- 
trariety of  his  own  emotions,  he  again  re- 
proached her  as  being  the  primarv  cause 
of  this  domestic  uneasiness,  aoitatinsf  him- 
self in  so  violeni  a  manner,  that  a  sort  of 
suffocation  ensued,  and  he  tell  senseless 
on  the  floor.  Medical  assistance  was  im- 
medi.itely  procured,  and  he  was  sedulously 
attended  by  the  family  during  a  fortnightjS 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  llj 

confinement.  To  prevent  Emily  farther 
int|iiietude,  Edwaril  and  IVlary  Ijnth  cun- 
tiniied  lo  write  to  her,  avoiding  to  mention 
the  cause  ot  Mr.  Fitsmorton's  illness  ; 
Edward's  letters  breathing  tenderness  and 
love,  assuring  her  he  had  tor  the  present 
suspendsid  his  military  plans,  but  that  she 
should  be  a<'quainted  wit-h  them  betbre 
they  were  finally  determined  ;  of  course  she 
could  not  divest  her  mind  of  anxiety  on 
his  account,  but  fancied  he  had  relinquish- 
ed all  thoughts  of  a  private  marriage,  and 
turned  her  mind  to  the  idea  of  gaining 
some  eligible  situation  in  the  world.  Mis. 
Mason  had  been  perstiaded  to  make  many 
enquiries:  Emily  wrote  herself  to  Dr.  Lt-i- 
cester,  statiiiij  her  future  intentions  ;  and 
at  the  very  moment  she  was  consulting 
with  Mr^.  Mi-^on,  whether  she  should  un- 
dertake the  tuition  ol  two  children  of  quali- 
ty, the  post  brr>ui*ht  her  the  following  let- 
ter from  Dr.  Leicester: — 

To  Miss  Grosvenor, 

"  Your  account  of  yourself,  my  dear 
youna:  I  idv,  has  so  interested  our  f  eliniis  ; 
ynur  condu<*t  so  excites  our  admiiatiiu,  that 
wt  wish  to  be  more  intimately  acquainted 
with  a  mind,  actuated  by  such  laudable 
and  disinterested  principles.  Y'>u  well 
know  how  we  are  situated  ;  shall  1  with 


ii6  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

prompt  sincerity  propose  to  you  a  plan 
which  we  ht)pe  will  prove  beneficial  to  yuur 
spirits,  and  which  we  are  persuaded  will  be 
highly  advantageous  and  gratifying  to  us  ? 
Mrs.  Leicester  and  myself  have  never  met 
with  a  human  being,  since  the  death  of  our 
lamented  Louisa,  of  so  fair  a  promise  as 
yourself:  one  who  could  so  well  contribute 
to  fill  our  bosoms'  aching  void,  and  to  prove 
to  us,  in  every  sense  of  the  word,  a  bless- 
ing from  the  hand  of  heaven  !  Have  you 
yet  anticipated,  my  dear  Miss  Grosvenor, 
what  I  am  about  to  request  ?  Come  and  try 
the  manner  of  our  life  ;  come  only  for  one 
twelvemonth,  during  that  time  accede  to 
our  proposals,  and  afterwards  we  will  ac- 
cede to  yours.  Such  a  companion  as  your- 
self would  be  an  acquisition  to  my  dear 
wife,  and  again  bid  her  look  forward  to 
days  of  peace,  nor  are  we  always  sad  or 
ripening  at  the  decrees  of  heaven  ;  and  to 
contribute  to  the  happiness  of  others,  is  the 
best  exhiliration  of  our  spirits.  With  the 
most  anxious  impatience  we  shall  await 
the  result  of  your  mature  deliberation. — • 
Write  us,  my  dear,  every  emotion  of  your 
heart,  and  that  you  will  confer  on  us  the 
requested  felicity  of  your  society,  is  the 
earnest  and  sincere  wish  of  one  who  hopes 
ever  to  prove  himself 

"  Your  paternal  friend, 

"  F.  Leicester." 


k  THE  FATAL  CABINET.  II7 

This  letter  was  received  by  Emily  with  a 
gratetul  heart :  Mrs.  Mason  strongly  ao  vis- 
ed her  to  accept  so  liberal  and  respectable  a 
protection.  All  other  plans  were  immedi- 
ately suspended,  and  Emily  answered  Dr. 
Leicester's  letter  as  he  wished  she  should. 
Every  arrangement  was  quickly  made,  and 
all  parties  agreed,  that  in  about  a  month 
Emily  should  visit  the  rectory,  to  settle 
every  tiling  for  her  permanent  residence. 


i 


lis  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

CHAP.  VII. 

When    Mr.   Fitsmorton   was  recovered 
from  liis  indisposition,  Emily  experienced 
a  severe  iriul  in  a  visit  from  his  son,  but 
even  the  eloquence  of  love  could  not  pre 
vail.     Emily   had  now  marked  the  line  of 
conduct  she  thought  she  ought  to  pursue  ; 
and  stability  of  mind,  strengthened  b\^  ma 
ture  reflection,  gave    permanency    to    her 
resolutions.  She  entreated  him  to  postponci 
going  into  the  army  for  six  months.     She; 
was   willing  to  enter  into  an  engagement 
never  to  marry,  if  fate  prevented  their  un 
ion,  and  gave  him  overy  assurance  that  hei 
present  refusal  did  not  originate  in  caprice 
or  indifference.     To  all  her  gentle  argu-  e 
ments  and   persuasions,  he  answered  with 
impatience  and   disappointment;   and  eli 
gible  as  he  appeared  the  plan   of  her  be 
ing  an  inmate  at  Dr.  Leicester's,  he  toki 
her,   "  Still   it  was  dependence,  and  ever^ 
thing  contributed  to  the  wish,  that  he  him 
self  should  become  her  only  protector."  In 
short,    they  parted    completely  miserable; 
nor  did  Fitsmorton's  mind  at  all   recovei 
its  serenity,  by  the  vain  endeavour  to  rej 
concile  his  mother  to  the  change  of  pursuijljt 
he  meditated,  in  entering  into  the  army  g( 
and  owing  to  her  distress  of  mind,  he  ha  ^jj 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  119 

not  resolution  to  acquaint  Mr.  Fitsmorton 
with  his  final  determination. 
'  When  Emily  was  settled  with  her  new 
•friends  at  the  rectory,  Edward  confirmed 
to  his  lather  her  decisive  refusal  to  enter 
■into  the  iamily  without  the  approbation  of 
all  parties,  at  the  same  tiule  declaring,  that 
he  would  never  marry  s.ny  other  woman, 
lindigUcMitly  hintiuij  the  inefficacy  of  Mr. 
Fiismortun  lamenting  the  effects  of  their 
imurual  uneasiness,  when  the  cause  rested 
with  him  alone.  Every  idea  of  preparation, 
or  liint  of  Edward's  future  plans,  filled  his 
father's  mind  with  horror  and  despair  ;  but 
as  obstinacy  was  its  leading  trait,  he  could 
'not  bring  himself  to  give  up  a  point,  in 
hvhich  he  fancied  the  dignity  of  his  family 
I  was  so  materially  concerned. 
3  Edward  Fitsmorton  continued  to  write 
'to  Emily,  and  she  answered  his  letters,  if 
;  only  to  prohibit  farther  persuasions  on  a 
subject  so  distressing  to  both.  Dr.  Leices- 
Her  offered  to  interfere,  and  endeavour  to 
overcome  Mr.  Fitsmorton's  unfortunate 
i prejudices  against  her ;  but  to  this  she 
iwould  not  consent,  and  could  she  obtain  a 
1' faithful  promise  from  Edward  Fitsmorton 
vnot  to  think  of  the  army  for  six  months  to 
ti  come,  she  thought  she  should  feel  compar- 
'atively  happy  ;  but  many  and  severe  were 
'the  conflicts  of  her  mind,  to  answer  with 


129  THE  FATAL  CABINET, 

resolution  and  propriety  all  his  sophistical 
arguments  to  induce  her  to  elope  with  him. 
The  step  was  so  repugnant  to  the  delicacy 
of  her  feelings,  the  peculiar  situation  Mrs. 
Grosvenor  had  exposed  her  to,  forbid  the 
pleadings  of  her  heart  in  t'avour  of  a  man 
she  so  truly  loved,  and  she  trusted  to  time 
and  circumstances  for  her  being  honoura 
bly  received  into  his  family.     Mary^s  let- 
ters were  her  great  comtbrt  and  support 
but  never  could  Emily  account  for  the  ex- 
treme dejection  of  her  friend^s  spirits.  ^Tis 
true  she  partook  of  the  amusements  suited 
to  her  age,  but  Emily  knew  that   Mary's 
heart  little  participated,  and  was  very  rare- 
ly interested,  in  scenes  of  gaiety  and  cheer- 
fuhiess.     Often   had   Mrs.   Fiismorton   la 
men  ted  to  her  this  indifference  and  apath; 
of  disposition,  but  neither  could  guess  th- 
probable  cause  of  such  habitual  melancho 
ly.     Soon,  however,  the   attention  of  th, 
family  was  aroused  and  excited,  by  the  ap 
parent  indisposition  of  Edward  Fitsmorton 
and  they  began  to  tancy  that  consumptiv 
habits  were  aheady  undermining  his  con 
stitution.     Mrs.   Fitsmorton,  with  all   th! 
inquietude  of  maternal   love,  marked   thi 
progress  of  his  disorder  ;  weak  and  timic 
when  exertion  was  necessary,  on  her  ow 
account,   but   resolute   in   a  cause    whir 
seemed  to  threaten  a  serious  affliction  t 


^  THE  FATAL  CABINET.  ijl 

all,  she  insisted  on  immediately  calling  in 
medical  advice,  and  wrote  privately  to  fid- 
ward's   friend,  Alfred   Granby,   entreating 
his  presence  as  soon  as  possible.     She  nar- 
rated every  circumstance  of  her  son's  at- 
tachment to  Emily  Grosvenor,  and  express- 
ed her  hopes  that  all  parties  might  yet  be 
conciliated   by  proper  and  seasonable  ad- 
vice.    Alfred  Granby  answered  her  letter 
in  person  ;  and  Fitsmorton  appeared  tran- 
siently revived   by  his  society  ;  talked  of 
arranging  every  thing  for  the  commence- 
ment of  his  military  career,  with  the  forced 
\'-  gaiety  of  a  despairing  heart.     The  physi- 
i    cian  who  attended  him  warmly  reprobated 
his  intentions,  and  instigated  by  Granby, 
very  seriously  expostulated  with  Mr.  Fits- 
morton on   the  risk  his  son  would  be  ex- 
posed to,  by  embracing  a  line  of  life  so  in- 
)    imical  to  his  health  and  spirits;  observing 
I    that  his  disorder  proceeded  from  anxiety 
i  .  and  disappointment,  and  that  the  conse- 
I    quences  might  prove  fatal,  if  his  mind  re- 
'    mained  in  so  disquieted  a  state.     Alfred 
!    Granby  seconded    the    probability  of  the 
doctor's  predictiwjs,  and  Mr.  Fitsmorton, 
i    appalled   by  such  melancholy  representa- 
tions, shocked  at  the  pallid  countenance 
't    and  the  alteration  he  could  not  help  ac- 
?    |j:nowledging  in  the  person  of  his  son,  at  last 
!    yielded  his  unwilling  consent,  and  said, 

VOL.  I.  11 


122  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

"  that  if  Edward  would  give  up  all  thoughts 
of  the  army,  and  at  the  end  of  six  months 
if  he  still  wished  that  Emily  Grosvenor 
should  become  his  wife,  he  would  endea- 
vour so  to  arrange  his  atiairs  that  pecunia- 
ry inconveniences  should  be  averted;"  se- 
cretly hoping,  that  in  the  space  of  six 
months  some  fortunate  circumstance  might 
intervene  to  prevent  the  union  ;  and  he 
soon  repented  that  he  had  not  stipulated 
for  a  longer  period  of  probation.  But  the 
joy  of  the  moment  beamed  on  every  coun- 
tenance, v/hilst  returning  hilarity  of  spirits 
seemed  already  to  presage  a  permanent  res- 
toration of  Fitsmorton's  health. 

Bv  Miss  Travers's  address  and  manasfe- 
mrnt,  Mr.  Filsmorton  was  prevailed  on  to 
write  a  few  lines  to  Emily,  and  as  dispatch 
is  generally  in  unison  with  love,  blessed 
with  so  valuable  a  credential,  Edward  could 
hardly  wait  the  finishing  of  his  mother's 
and  sister's  letters,  and  gaily  bidding  them 
farewell,  he  and  his  friend,  Alfred  Granby, 
were  soon  travelling  on  the  road  to  Hert- 
fordshire. 

Emily  had  been  apprised  of  Edward's  in- 
disposition ;  anxiety  magnified  her  appre- 
hensions, and  could  she  have  followed  the 
natural  impulse  of  her  heart,  it  would  have! 
prompted  her  to  have  attended  him  in  the 
hour  of  sickness  :  and  notwithstanding  thc|j 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  123 

i  stability  of  her  mind,  she  often  wept  in  se- 
cret at  the  prospect  of  her  future  fate,  and 
sometimes  doubted  whether  her  scruples 
were  not  leading  her  far,  very  I'ar,  from  the 
path  of  happiness  ;  but  the  estrangement  of 
Edward  Fitsmorton  from  the  bosom  of  his 
family,  and  the  misery  this  would  ensure 
to  his  mother  and  sister,  the  stigma  which 
his  father  imagined  clu'ng  to  herself,  on  ac- 
count of  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  depravity,  all 
contri!)uted  to  strengthen  the  resolution  she 
had  formed,  never  to  enter  the  family  in  a 
dishonourable  or  clandestine  manner.  Eve- 
ry solace  and  advice  which  experience  and 
judgment  could  suggest,  she  derived  from 
her  respectable  companions;  and  the  re- 
flection that  she  was  acting  from  the  prin- 
ciples of  rectitude  and  honour,  frequently 
chased  from  her  bosom  the  feelings  of  des- 
pair. 

On    the   evening   cf  a    very    inclement 
April  day,  the  shutters  being  closed,  and 

;  the  comforts  of  the  social  tea  equipage 
preparing,  whilst  Dr.  Leicester  was  select- 
ing an  entertaining  book  for  their  mutual 
amusement,  a  carriage  was  heard  at  some 
little  distance,  and  soon  a  violent  ringing  at 
the  gate  announced  its  arrival.  Emily^s 
heart  palpitated — Fitsmorton  was  associat- 
ed with  every  idea — a  sort  of  bustle  in  the 
hall,  and  the  servant's  answering  to  some 


124  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

one — "  Yes,  Sir,  quite  alone,"  increased 
iier  involuntary  alarm.  The  parlour  door 
was  hastily  opened,  a  gentleman  entered 
the  room.  Emily  heard  his  name ;  she 
knew  that  Mr.  Granby  was  Fitsmortori^s 
intimate  friend, -and  ail  the  dark  forebo- 
dings of  imagination  passed  in  momentary 
succession  across  her  mind.  Before  Mr. 
Granby  could  prepare  her  for  seeing  Fits- 
morton,  she  exclaimed,  "-My  dear  Sir, 
pray  let  me  know  the  worst ;  suspense  will 
only  add  to  my  misery. — Your  friend  is,  I 
fear,  very  ill,  or  has  he  left  the  country  V 

And  before  Mr.  Granby  could  answer 
these  hurried  questions,  Fitsmorton,  hav- 
ing recovered  from  a  momentary  iaintness 
proceeding  from  the  lassitude  ol"  fatigue, 
ru§]ied  into  the  room,  and  regardless  of  the 
astonished  witnesses  of  his  impetuosity, 
caught  Emily  to  his  bosom,  calling  her  his 
ovvn,  his  beloved  girl,  the  arbitress  of  his 
future  fate.  The  tide  of  joy  which  rushed 
through  Emily^s  heart,  allov/ed  for  a  mo- 
ment the  unchecked  rapture  of  her  lover, 
but  instantly  sutfusing  her  cheek  with  the 
carnation  tint  of  modesty,  she  broke  from 
his  encircling  arms,  and  endeavoured  to 
assume  some  degree  of  composure,  then 
observing  Edward's  pallid  countenance,  she 
burst  into  tears,  and  said,  "  my  dear,  why 
this  unnecessary  trial  of  your  health  and 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  125 

spirits  ?"  a  momentary  silence  ensued.  At 
length,  Granby  attenipted  to  explain  the 
cause  of  their  journey,  and  Edward,  taking 
a  packet  of  letters  from  his  |X)cket,  entreat- 
ed Emily's  serious  attention  to  its  contents, 
and  not  to  consider  him  either  a  fool  or  a 
madman,  causelessly  to  alarm  her  mind  or 
agitate  her  spirits. 

Emily,  dreading  a  repetition  of  distress- 
ing arguments,  took  the  letters  in  silence;. 
Alfred  Granby,  who  had  fully  explained  the 
reason  of  their  visit  to  Dr.  and  Mrs,  Leices- 
ter, now  approached  Edward,  and  said, 
*'  who  can  peruse  such  interesting  letters, 
whilst  there  are  so  many  witnesses  to  es- 
trange attention  ]  let  us  leave  the  ladies 
together  ;  my  life  on  it.  Miss  Grosvenor, 
will  thank  me  with  smiles^in  half  an  hour 
for  this  proposal."  So  saying,  he  toolf  Dr. 
Leicester's  arm,  and  they  all  three  lelt  the 
room.  The  peculiarity  of  Mr.  Granby's 
manner  increased  the  trepidation  of  Emily's 
spirits  ;  she  gazed  mournfully  on  the  event- 
ful packet,  till,  at  length,  persuaded  and 
soothed  by  Mrs.-  Leicester,  she  broke  the 
seal  of  the  envelope,  and  descried  Mrs.  Fits- 
morton's  hand-writing.  Pressing  the  letter 
to  her  lips,  she  said,  "  dear  and  honoured 
friend,  how  I  revere  your  goodness,  and 
love  you  for  every  mark  of  your  distinguish^ 
ed  regard  to  me  !"  Then  taking  up  a  letter; 
11  * 


126  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

directed  in  Mr.  Fiismorton's  hand-writing, 
she  exclaimed,  "  my  dear  Mrs.  Leicesft  r, 
what  can  this  portend  ?"  And  'ere  she  had 
finished  reading  its  contents,  she  fell  the 
support  ot  Fitsmorton's  arm,  who  had 
impatiently  re-entered  the  room,  unable  to 
restrain  the  inquietude  of  his  feelings, 
though  he  had  apparently  attended  to  the 
reasonable  advice  of  his  more  reasonable 
companions.  It  may  be  imagined  that  a 
tete-a-tete  was  the  consequence  of  his  in- 
trusion ;  and  when  it  is  acknowledged  that 
Fitsmorton  thought  himself  the  happiest, 
and  Emily  the  most  perfect  of  human  be- 
ings. It  may  also  be  concluded,  that  the 
chaste  timidity  of  genuine  affection  on  her 
part,  encouraged  by  Mr.  Fitsmorton^s  con- 
sent to  the  alliance,  had  contributed  to 
pourtray  to  the  lover's  imagmation  the 
brightest  tints  of  future  felicity.  A  tran- 
sitory cloud  intervened,  Edward's  uncer- 
tain health  yielded  to  fatigue  of  body 
and  agitation  of  mind,  but  a  few  days  con-- 
finement,  and  Mrs.  Leicester's  wholesome 
prescriptions,  offered  by  the  hand  of  Emily, 
proved  more  elficacious  than  medical  rem- 
edies had  hitherto  done. 

When  Edward  and  his  friend  had  left  the 
rectory,  Emily  could  hardly  believe  the  re- 
ality of  her  present  destiny,  and  the  con- 
Ermation  of  it  was  frequently  ascertained 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  i27 

)by  the  perusal  of  Mr.  Fitsmorton's  letter. 
iTo  think  that  she  should  be  clasped  to  the 
bosoQi  of  Edward's  mother,  as  an  esteeuied 
and  beloved  daughter,  that  his  child  would 
be  taught  to  consider  her  as  the  guardian 
of  her  future  days;  that  Mary  would  re- 
ceive her  as  a  sister,  and  that  in  a  few 
months  a  near  and  tender  cUiim  might  unite 
them  in  the  permanent  bonds  of  affection, 
were  the  natural  anticipations  of  her  mind. 
Yet  so  great  was  the  sudden  change  in  her 
prospects,  that  she  sometimes  trembled  at 
the  instability  of  terrestial  blessings.  Dr. 
ILeicester,  who  watched  with  parental  soli- 
citude every  turn  of  her  mind,  took  all  op- 
portunities to  discourage  such  irritable  feel- 
ings ;  and,  whilst  he  reprobated  the  pre- 
sumptive rdea  that  worldly  happiness  was 
a  plant  of  permanent  duration,  he  wished 
I  to  inculcate  that  the  creatures  of  dependen- 
cy could  best  testify  their  gratitude,  by  be- 
ing satisfied  with  the  dispensations  of  a 
bountiful  and  wise  Creator. 

"  Believe  me,"  he  continued,  "  my  dear 
Miss  Grosvenor,  that  experience  has,  in 
some  measure,  matured  my  judgment,  and 
I  am  convinced  that  half  the  miseries  of 
life  proceed  from  a  fastidious  and  perverted 
imagination.  We  often  anticipate  a  thou- 
sand evils  which  are  never  realized,  and 
thereby  deprive  ourselves  of  that  present 


las  THE  FATAL  CABINET, 

portion  of  enjoyment  which  might  prove  a 
solace  through  the  scenes  of  a  chequered 
and   uncertain   world.     Like  a  distant  fog, 
wiiich  obscures  the  brilliancy  of  nature,  en- 
veloping in  shade  its   brightest  scenes,  yet 
as    the    traveller    approaches,    the   fancied 
gloom  is  vanished,  and  cheerful   persever- 
ance at  length  concludes  his  journey/' — 
Emily  profited  by  such  salutary  counsel, 
and  looked  forward  with  heart-felt  satifec 
tion  to  a  visit  from  Miss  Fitsmorton,  with 
whom  she  was  to  return  to  London  for  a 
few  weeks.     Alfred  Granby   had  long  ad- 
mired Miss  Fitsmorton,  but  the  reserve  ol 
her  manners,  and  her  pensive  disposition, 
had  hitherto   precluded  an  avowal  of  hi^ 
sentiments.     The   temporary   cheerfulnes;^ 
she  now  evinced  at  Emily's  happiness,  in 
duced  him  to  confide  to  Edward  his  Ion: 
smothered  partiality,  and  being  assured  bj 
him  that  Mary's  affections  were  disengag 
ed,  he  openly  paid  her  all  those  marked  at 
tentions  so  generally  pleasing  to  the  femah 
mind,  yet  so  distressing^  when  not  duly  ap 
predated. — Mary,  disdaining, every  specie 
of  coquetry,  saw  with  regret  Mr.  Granby" 
partiality;  she  knew  it  was  a  connectioi 
her  father  must  approve  of,  but  determine;! 
to   plead   the   present   insensibility   of  he 
heart,  if  seriously  urged  on  the  subject. 
Emily's  reception  in  town  was  most  gr 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  laj 

tifying  to  her  feelings,  and  when  the  time 
of  her  visit  expired,  the  utmost  resolution 
was  necessary  to  withdraw  herself  from  so 
beloved  a  circle.  She  returned  to  the  rec- 
tory, and  had  the  satisfaction  of  returning 
with  Edward's  child  for  her  comjDanion. 

Mr.  Fitsmorton  had  behaved  to  Emily 
with  tolerable  kindness,  but  he  could  not 
help  secretly  lamenting  that  he  had  not  in- 
sisted upon  d  longer  period  before  the  mar- 
riage should  take  place,  and  when  Edward 
had  recovered  his  health  and  spirits,  he 
thought  he  had  been  too  easily  persuaded 
to  receive  Emily  into  the  family. 

These  irritations  of  a  weak  mind  contri- 
buted not  to  the  improvement  of  his  tem- 
per, and  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  rejoiced  at  the 
approach  of  summer,  which  would  take 
her  from  the  circles  of  gaiety  to  scenes 
more  congenial  to  her  mind.  Soon  after 
the  family  were  settled  at  Fitsmorton  park 
for  the  season,  Emily  again  became  their 
guest,  and  in  her  society  Edward  was  often 
reminded  of  the  angel  he  had  deplored, 
marking-  with  peculiarity  of  feeling  their 
resemblance  in  mind  and  manner. 

Alfred  Granby  had  offered  his  hand  and 
heart  to  Miss  Fitsmorton  ;  timid  and  irre- 
solute in  conduct,  fearing  compulsion  from 
her  father,  she  requested  that  Granby  would 
for  one  twelvemonth  suspend  any  applica- 


13&  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

tioii  to  her  family,  and  if  at  the  end  of  that 
period  he  wished  for  the  alliance,  she  would 
then  become  his  wife.  Alfred  submitted, 
but  not  till  she  had  assured  him,  that  no 
man  living  she  could  acknowledge  a  prefer- 
cd  regard.  To  Emily  her  conduct  appear- 
ed inexplicable,  and  she  pronounced  her 
friend's  determination  capricious,  and  Gran- 
by^s  attachment  unfortunate. 

At  the  expiration  of  the  six  months, 
Edward  Fitsmorton  and  Emily  Grosvenor 
were  united.  The  child  brightened  be- 
neath their  eye,  and  Emily  often  asked  her- 
self whether  it  were  possible  she  could  love 
one  of  her  own  children  better  than  she 
did  her  present  interesting  companion. 
She  had  heard  Fitsmorton  observe,  that  the 
child's  countenance  and  actions  reminded 
him  of  her  own  mother,  but  Emily  had  in 
vain  formerly  wished  to  trace  the  features 
of  her  father,  when  partiality  for  him  first 
struggled  in  her  bosom. 

Di\  Leicester  had  joined  their  hands  ; 
Mrs.  Mason  was  not  forgotten.  In  their 
bridal  toi^n.Ahey  had  made  her  a  visir,  and 
her  excel. jnt  heart  was  truly  gratified  at 
the  prospect  of  the  happiness  her  interest- 
ing pupil  had  every  reason  to  anticipate. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  J3l 


CHAP.   Mil, 


Sir  George  Sinclair's  visit  to  liis  un- 
cle proved  an  untbrtunaie  one,  in  every 
sense  of  the  word.  A  few  days  convinced 
him  Ije  was  not  the  welcome  guest  he  had 
hiiherlo  been,  and  a  few  weeks  confirmed 
some  vague  suspicions  that  his  uncle's 
housekeeper  could  claim  with  him  a  very 
rear  relationship.  In  .^hort,  he  found  that 
they  were  privately  married,  and  the  sight 
■of  a  male  infant  pr'-ciiided  all  probability 
of  ever  reaping  the  fruits  of  his  hypocriti- 
cal atteniions.  Disgusted  and  wearied 
with  their  monotonous  life,  he  prepared  for 
a  very  early  departure.  The  remembrance 
of  Emily  Grosvenor,  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  been  out-witted,  rankled  at  his 
heart,  nOr  did  he  despair  of  being  amply 
revenged  for  the  scorn  she  had  evinced  for 
the  offer  of  his  hand  and  heart.  He  fanci- 
ed that  existence  was  insupportable  with- 
out the  radiant  smiles  of  her  beauty  ;  and 
his  selfish  ungenerous  passion  would  glad- 
ly have  reduced  the  object  of  his  transient 
adoration  to  a  state  of  disgrace  and  wretch- 
edness. The  evening  previous  to  his  leav- 
ing a  society  so  uncongenial  to  his  taste 
and  habits,  he  was  brought  to  his  uncle's 
house  in  a  senseless  and  alarming  situation  ; 


132  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

returning  from  a  convivial,  but  intemperate 
party,  in  a  state  of  intoxication,  which 
rendered  him  unable  to  manage  his  horse, 
th€  spirited  animal  ran  furiously  away,  and 
at  length  suddenly  precipitated  his  unfor- 
tunate master  on  a  heap  ot  stones.  A  con- 
tusion of  his  head,  and  a  dislocation  of  his 
arm,  vi^ere  the  constquences.  The  horse 
galloped  home,  which  alarmed  the  family. 
Humanity  prompted  a  strict  search  for  the 
rider,  who  was  found  at  some  distance  from 
his  uncle's  house,  whither  he  was  carefully 
conveyed,  and  a  surgeon  was  immediately 
sent  for,  but  many  months  elapsed  before 
he  could  be  pronounced  free  from,  danger. 
The  contusion  had  affected  his  intellects, 
and  in  this  deplorable  state  he  was  indebt- 
ed perhaps  for  his  life,  and  decisively  for 
every  alleviation  of  pain,  to  the  kind-heart- 
ed woman  he  had  treated  so  contemptuous- 
ly. She  influenced  his  uncle  to  settle  an 
annuity  on  him  for  life,  and  her  whole  con- 
duct evinced,  that  the  exercise  of  kindness 
and  humanity  is  not  confined  to  any  situ- 
ation of  life,  or  dependant  on  the  stimula- 
tive powers  of  education. 

Mrs.  Grosvenor  was  still  in  the  meridiar 
of  her  glory,  enjoying  her  imaginary  con 
sequence,  and  deluding  her  companioi 
with  every  act  and  blandishment  she  s( 
well  knew  how  to  practise  ;  the  feelings  o 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  I3j 

nature  were  so  deadened  in  her  bosom,  that 
Emily  was  only  thought  of  as  an  insidious 
usurper  of  her  rights  ;  and  still  imagining 
that  the  elopement  was  concerted  and  vol- 
untary, she  harboured  every  sentiment  of 
revenge  against  the  man  so  late  the  object 
of  her  adoration  ;  and  to  see  them  both  beg- 
ging at  her  feet,  would  have  proved  a  mo- 
ment of  the  highest  gratification. 

Emily,  amidst  her  own  happiness,  re- 
membered her  mother  with  painful  regret, 
nor  could  she  fail  to  anticipate,  that  days 
of  sorrow,  and  probably  of  repentance, 
would  succeed  to  the  transient  splendour 
of  her  present  career.  The  time  of  Alfred 
Granby's  probation  elapserl,  a  dejection 
was  still  visible  on  iNlary's  countenance, 
but  he,  who  only  attributed  it  to  the  ti- 
midity of  her  nature,  thought  himself  the 
happiest  of  men  when  she  consented  to  be- 
come his  wife,  and  sought  in  the  bosom  of 
retirement  the  comforts  of  a  domestic  life. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton  appear- 
ed blessed  beyond  the  common  lot  of  mor- 
tals. The  birth  of  a  son  augmented  their 
happiness,  and  Edward's  care  and  attention 
to  Emily,  and  fondness  for  the  child,  knew 
no  bounds.  She  nursed  the  infant  herself, 
which,  of  course,  obliged  her  to  give  up 
prO:niscuous  engagements,  and  this  she 
dated  as  the  happiest  period  of  her  life,pass- 

VOL.  r.  12 


134  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ing  her  days  more  retired,  and  her  even- 
ings with  esteemed  and  selected  friends, 
or  only  tete-a-teie  with  her  husband ;  and 
whilst  pressing  her  own  and  Edward^s  child 
to  her  bosom,  she  acknowledged  herself 
one  of  the  happiest  of  human  beings. 

Mr.  Fitsmorton   had   never  entirely  re- 
covered the  effects  of  his  last  illness,  and 
his  health  now   visibly  declined.     Sensible 
of  his  own  danger,  yet  outrageous  if  it  were 
hinted  at  by  others,  he  became  offensively 
impatient,  and  the  cares  and  attentions  of 
his  wife  and  family  were  frequently  receiv- 
ed  with  fretfulness,  and  always  with  in- 
gratitude.    He  grew  viorse,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Granby  wero  sent  for,  he  was  surrounded 
by  his  family  without  their  daring  to  ad- 
minister  those  consolations   his   situation 
required.     The  solemnity  of  a  death-bedj 
must  ever  appa!  the  strongest  mind.     In| 
the  last  hours  of  suii'ering  humanity,  andj 
where  the  senses  are  sufficiently  acute  tc| 
convince  the  dying  how  awful  is  the  ex- 
pectation  of  eternity  !  when  the  countei 
nance  of  an   effectionate  wife   or  mothe 
proclaims  the  internal  struggle  for  resigns 
tion  to  heaven,   when   medical  assistanc 
appears  of  no  avail,  when  the  eventful  sepzl 
ration  of  soul  and  body  is  nearly  accoir 
plished.     How   dark  and  dreary  the  paj 
saj^e   to  the  tomb!    unless   the   '"-^un 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  135 

righteousness  with  healing  in  its  wings," 
dispels  the  mists  of  doubt,  and  cheers  the 
sutferer  with  the  glorious  hope  of  eternal 
happiness  ! 

*  After  a  few  days  of  extreme  agonies,  Mr. 
Fitsmorton  died  in  the  arms  of  his  son  ! 
Every  possible  attention  was  paid  to  the 
wishes  of  the  deceased,  and  a  Jew  months 
restored  tranquility  and  happiness  to  all. 

Emily's  felicity  seemed  daily  to  increase 
the  affection  of  the  husband,  and  the  atten- 
tion of  the  lover  vvere  most  conspicuous  in 
Fitsmorton's  conduct,  whilst  the  native 
sweetness  of  her  disposition,  the  polish  of 
her  manners,  and  the  cultivation  of  her 
mind,  anticipated  his  every  wish,  and  ren- 
dered home  a  scene  of  comfort  and  variety. 
The  devotion  of  his  time  to  her  society, 
appeared  ever  to  be  the  result  of  his  own 
inclination,  and  Emily  yet  secluded  herself 
from  places  of  fashionable  resort,  on  ac- 
count of  her  maternal  duly  to  her  little 
boy;  and  when  Fitsmorton  felt  obliged 
from  concurring  circumstances  to  leave  her 
at  the  hour  of  dinner,  his  early  return  in 
the  evening  vv^s  highly  gratifying  to  her 
affectionate  heart. 

He  had  one  day  accepted  some  casual 
engagement,  ?.nd  towards  evening  Emily, 
as  usual,  expecting  him  home  with  her  ac- 
customed solicitude,  her  mind  naturally 


136  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

fell  into  a  train  of  reflections,  resulting 
from  the  domestic  happiness  she  so  fully 
enjoyed,  and  so  truly  appreciated.  His 
well-known  knock  at  the  door  aroused  her 
from  the  pleasing  reverie.  He  entered  the 
room,  and  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  with- 
out even  his  accustomed  enquiries  after  his 
children,  or  one  affectionate  look  to  the  as- 
tonished Emily. 

"Are  you  unwell,  my  love?"  was  her 
first  anxious  question. 

"  Unwell  ?" — No, — no, — I .  am  in  the 
highest  health  and  spirits  imaginable." 

"  Something,  1  am  sure,  has  disturbed 
your  mind,  Edward.  Why  do  you  not 
speak  to  me  as  usual  ?" 

"  And  why  this  strange  inquietude,  my 
most  discerning  love?"  then  advancing  to- 
wards her,  and  grasping  her  hands  within 
his  own,  he  added,  "  And  shall  the  sweet 
intelligence  of  mind,  beaming  on  that  love- 
ly countenance,  bind  xnefor  ever  your  fond, 
your  willing  slave  ?"  Emily  was  about  to 
deprecate  Fitsmorton's  uncommon  manner 
and  expressions,  when  looking  anxiously 
in  his  face,  she  discovered  that  they  pro- 
ceeded from  the  effects  of  wine,  and  in- 
stantly endeavouring  to  suppress  her  cha- 
grin, she  soothed  him  in  the  gentlest  man- 
ner, permitted  not  a  single  question  to  es- 
cape her,  only  anxious  that  repose  should 


•  THE  FATAL  CABINET.  137 

restore  him  to  every  proper  recollection. 
He  then  appeared  to  have  a  taint  remem- 
brance of  ihe  inconsistency  of  his  behav- 
iour ;  and,  clasping  her  to  his  bosom,  he 
s«id- — . 

"  Let  us  then,  dearest  Emily,  again  be 
friends."  With  a  smile  expressive  of  every 
virtue  which  could  irradiate  beauty,  she 
replied — 

"  My  dear  Edward,  were  we  ever  other- 
wise ?  not  for  one  moment  since  fate  has 
united  us,  have  I  ever  experienced  for  thee 
auiJ:ht  but  the  hallowed  sentiments  of  afFec-* 
tion  !"  And  then  the  soothing  endearments 
of  the  anxious  wife  prevailing,  he  retired 
to  rest  with  tolerable  composure. 

Emily  ruminated  for  some  little  time  on 
the  scene  which  had  passed  ;  but  her  good 
sense  permitted  her  not  to  convert  this  ac- 
cidental excess  into  a  growing  or  serious 
evil  ;  and  she  anticipated  the  excuses  Fits- 
morton  would  make,  and  the  chastened  ex- 
pressions of  love  which  would  fall  from  his 
lips,  when  reason  again  resumed  its  empire 
in  his  mind  ;  then  supplicating  the  Dispos- 
er of  all  events  tor  a  continuance  of  the 
blessings  which  surrounded  her,  she  kissed 
her  sleeping  children,  and  peacefully  retired 
to  rest. 

The  next  morninofat  breakfast,  Fitsmor- 
ton  endeavoured  to  rally  off  the  subject,  aod 
12* 


.J3JJ  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Emily  avoiding  unnecessary  gravity  or  wise 
rebukes,  promoted  the  gaity  he  wished  to 
encourage.  The  entrance  of  the  children 
gave  a  new  turn  to  the  discourse  ;  he  fond- 
ly caressed  his  boy,  and  appeared  gratifie«l 
when  Emily  playfully  traced  in  the  infant's 
countenance  his  own  features  and  complex- 
ion. 

"  It  is  extraordinary,  my  love,"  she  add- 
ed, "  that  our  sweet  Mary  bears  so  little 
resemblance  to  you ;  how  often  have  1  wish- 
ed, even  before  1  had  any  idea  that  you  re- 
garded me  with  partiality  ;  how  often  have 
I  wished,  that  your  child's  eyes,  or  mouth, 
or  some  trait  of  her  countenance,  could  re- 
mind me  of  her  father  !" 

"  Extraordinary  !  did  you  say,  Emily  ? 
Nothing  is  extraordinary  in  this  world  !" 
Then  looking  earnestly  in  the  child's  face, 
he  declared,  "  it  to  be  most  true — too  true," 
and  impatiently  ordered  her  to  be  taken 
out  of  the  room. 

Thoueh  gradual  the  chan2;e  in  Fitsmor- 
ton's  temper  and  spirit*:,  Emily  thought  she 
eould  trace  its  commencemeut  from  this 
period.  She  saw,  with  pviin,  that  intempe- 
rate conviviality  was  becoming  a  refuge  for 
some  mental  inquietude,  the  cause  of  which 
she  vainly  endeavoured  to  discover,  but  she 
ever  avoided  ail  com])Iaiiit  of  his  conduct, 
which  miaht  have  embittered  the  few  do- 
mestic hours  they  now  passed  together.-^ 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  199 

Wliat  a  chans^e  tor  the  susceptible,  the  af- 
1  fectionate   heart  ot  Emily  ;  and    to    meet 
Mrs.  Fitsmorton  with  the  smile  of  peace, 
to  conceal  from  her  every  anxious  solici- 
tude on  Edward's  account,  appeared  a  task 
the  most  difficult  to  perform  !  Mrs.  Gran- 
by  was  settled  in  a  distant  part  of  the  coun- 
j  try,  and  to  her  she  could  avoid  all  unneces- 
'  sary  communications.     Tiie  two  children 
just  at   this   time   unfortunately  sickened 
with  the  measles,  of  course  Emily  devoted 
her  whole  attention  to  them.     Fitsmorton 
evinced  the  fondest  anxiety  for  his  son,  and 
even  had  watched  some  hours  at  the  child's 
bed-side,   when  the  malady  appeared  with 
unfavourable  symptoms  ;  but   when   little 
Mary    a  few    days   afterwards    became   an 
equal  sufferer,  he  never  entered  the  nursery 
|(Or  enquired  ab(»ut  her.      All  this  was  enig- 
matical to  Emily;  and  when   the  children 
were  perfectly  recovered,  she  with  accumu- 
rmulatino^  anguish   perceived   that  the  mid- 
1  nis^ht  revel,  and  the  most  dissipated  society, 
were  often  substituted  for  the  rational  con- 
verse of  chosen  friends.     Surronndt-d  with 
•  every  apparent  blessing-,  the  vvorld  appeared 
to  her  a  desart.     The  bosom  on  which  she 
had  heretofore  rested  with  confidence  and 
lalfectioti,  was  either  wrapped  in   mystery, 
or  fatally  estranged  from,  hers!  an«i  often 
idinshe  feelsincer^'lv  q^ratefnl  that  no  persua- 
isions  had  induced  her  to  listen  to  Fitsmor- 


140  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ton's  clandestine  proposals,  for  haci  she  en- 
tered the  family,  in  her  idea,  so  dishonour- 
ahly,  she  thought  her  present  misery  would 
have  been  insupportable;  perhaps  (she  men- 
tally apostrophised)  "  the  domestic  habits 
I  have  lately  encouraged  are  not  sufficient- 
ly blended  with  variety  for  the  active  mind 
of  man  !  1  will  no  longer  indulge  my  own 
feelings  and  taste,  in  contradiction  to  Ed- 
wards wishes." 

Some  unbidden  tears  fell  on  her  cheek  ; 
but,  having  determined  on  a  ditferent  line 
of  conduct,  she  fervently  prayed  that  the 
health  ot  her  darling  boy  might  not  suffer 
from  a  relaxation  of  her  care  and  attentions. 
Without  appearing  to  comment  on  her  hus-- 
band's  conduct,  she  had  been  a  very  accu- 
rate observer,  and  was  convinced  that  he 
often  sought  company  abroad,  more  to  ban- 
ish uneasy  tetlections  than  to  gratify  a  de- 
praved inclination  and  taste  ;  but  that  his 
mind  should  be  agitated  by  any  distress, 
and  she  not  permitted  to  share  it,  was  an 
idea  that  overwhelmed  her  with  the  deep- 
est sorrow  and  res^ret ;  and  her  utmost  pen- 
etration could  not  discover  w^hy  little  Ma- 
ry, now  of  so  interesting  an  age,  was  often 
repulsed  by  her  father,  if  she  attempted 
those  little  playful  endearments  which  in- 
noc^Mice  and  nature  prompted. 

Often  had  Emily  heard  her  mother  spo- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  ui 

,  ken  of  as  the  most  lovely  and  amiable  of 
\  women.     "  Is  it  possible  (she  sometimes 
asked  herself)  that  Edward  is  afraid  to  ex- 
press  the  natural  emotions  of  his   heart, 
Uvhen   contemplating  this  living  image  of 
one  he  had  so  truly  mourned?  She  hoped 
he  could  not  attribute  to  her  any  narrow 
I  or  illiberal  sentiments!  It  had  ever  been 
'  her  unifonti  endeavour  to  court  his  atten- 
tion to  the  child's   infantine  sayings  and 
pursuits,  which  had  only  increased  the  ir- 
ritation of  the  moment." 

Emily  now.  invited  company,  frequented 
public  places,  and  formed  those  parties  at 
home  which  she  thought  would  be  most 
pleasing  to  her  husband.  He  seemed  sur- 
prised at  so  sudden  a  change,  and  sedu- 
lously attended  her,  more,  Emily  thought, 
from  curiosity,  than  from  any  gratification 
he  enjoyed  in  such,  scenes  of  gaiety.  She 
for  some  time  heroically  pursued  this  plan, 
but  whilst  surrounded  with  all  the  variety 
of  dissipation  which  could  fascinate  the 
senses,  her  heart  drooped  with  its  contend- 
ing emotions,  and  the  smile  which  played 
upon  her  countenance  was  only  the  deceiv- 
ing evidence  of  her  apparent  happiness. 
I  ?  Dr.  Leicester  being  in  town,  called  upon 
ftmily  one  morninij,  to  request  that  Fits- 
morton,  herself,  and  her  nursery,  would 
vvisit  the  rectory  ;  but  when  she  mentioned 


3  42  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

the  invitation  to  her  husband,  he  proposed 
that  she  and  her  children  should  accompa- 
ny the  doctor  into  the  country,  but  plead-i 
ed  that  particular  business  would  not  per- 
mit him  to  leave  home. 

This  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  pro- 
posed even  a  temporary  separation.  She 
replied,  "  Nothing  should  induce  her  to 
leave  town  without  him  ;"  "  and  surely," 
he  returned,  "  my  dear  Emily,  this  deter- 
mination is  a  very  childish  one  :  your  leav- 
ing London,  for  a  short  time,  will  afford 
us  a  little  cessation  from  company,  for  we 
seem  lately  to  have  lived  in  a  crowd." 

"  1  wish  1  knew  what  line  of  conduct 
would  be  most  pleasing  to  your  taste,  Ed- 
ward. I  really  thought  seclusion  from  pro- 
miscuous society  was  unpleasant  to  yOu, 
and  happy,  as  I  ever  am,  in  the  domestic 
circle "    • 

He  interrupted  her,  saying,  "  Nonsense, 
Emily  !  variety  is  pleasing  to  all,  and  to 
shine  a  bright  constellation  in  the  hemis- 
pliere  of  fashion,  and  rival  each  gay  com- 
petitor of  wit  and  beauty  ;  in  short,  to  run 
the  full  career  of  iemale  vanity,  are  seduc- 
tive temptations  to  the  feeble  mind  of  wo- 
man." 

*'^  I  know  not  what  I  am  to  infer  from 
this  sort  ot  language  ;  if  to  love  you  beyond 
all  human  beings,  if  to  vary  the  tenor  oi 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  5  43 

my  life  to  give  zest  and  variety  to  yours, 
nay,  even  to  neglect  my  niaternai  duties 
for  the  higher  ones,  affection  for  you  sug- 
gests : — IS  to  be  guilty  of  vanity  and  foily, 
then  atn  I  the  triflina;  <:haracter  vou  have 
endeavoured  to  describe." 

"  1  doui)t  not  your  merits,  Emily,  and 
why  should  i  floubt  your  lovo  for  me?" 

"  Doubt  my  love !  merciful  heaven  !  ei- 
ther you  or  I  are  fatally  chunged,  to  give 
rise  to  these  heart-breaking  altercations! 
Edward,  you  are  not  happy  ;  long  have  I 
forbore  to  question  you  on  the  subject  of 
your  uneasiness. — Is  it  in  the  power  of  your 
once-beloved  Emily  to  lessen  your  cares  by 
participation  ? — Is  any  retrenchment  ne- 
cessary in  our  domestic  arrangement  1 — I. 
ask  not  from  whence  the  cause  proceeds  ; 
but  blessed  with  your  affectionate  confi- 
■  dence,  the  humblest  situation  in  life  would 
have  its  comforts." 

"  I  believe  you  are  an  angel !" 

"  Suppress  these  violent  emotions,  dear- 
est Edward,  let  me  ever  prove  to  you  an 
endearing  companion  and  a  sympathizing 
friend.  Oh  !  tell  me,  then,  my  love,  my 
husband,  w^hat  is  the  cause  of  your  late  in- 
quietude of  mind  ! — I  cannot  long  support 
the  estransrement  of  vour  coniidence:  and 
tell  me  also,  dearest  Edward,  from  whence 
originates  the  unaccountable  dislike  you 
have  of  late  evinced  for " 


144  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

*'  Emily,  I  never  will  be  quCvStioned  on 
the  subject;  but,  perhaps,  my  dislike  only 
exists  in  your  imagination." 

'*  1  wish  1  could  believe  so  ;  I  wish  I 
could  also  believe  that  the  hours  ol  solitude 
I  have  lately  passed  were  not  too  sure  an 
evidence  ot  your  declining  regard. — 1  scorn 
all  frivolous  complaint,  but,  indeed,  I  am 
wretched  beyond  expression." 

Fitsmorton  paced  the  room  in  great  per- 
tubation  ;  then,  gazing  on  Emily^s  agitated 
countenance,  he  said,  '•'•  Surely,  thou  art 
an  angel !"  and,  folding  her  in  his  arms,  she 
endeavoured  to  believe  that  peace  Mould 
again  be  restored  to  her  bosom.  Too  deli- 
cate and  considerate  to  press  for  a  farther 
explanation  of  Edward's  conduct,  she  with 
pain  soon  discovered  that  some  hidden  in- 
quietude still  preyed  upon  his  spirits,  and 
similar  conversations  never  afforded  perma- 
nent satisfaction  or  relief.  How  many  evils 
would  be  averted,  were  the  plain  and  on- 
ward path  of  sincerity  preferred  to  the  daik 
labyrinth  of  dissimulation  !  How  few  cases 
authorise  the  latter!  and  whether  it  pro- 
ceed from  the  false  tenderness  of  not  afflict- 
ing a  beloved  object,  or  from  the  fear  of  ex- 
posing errors,  which  frequently  accumulate 
by  concealment,  the  idea  is  equally  erro- 
neous, and  generally  terminates  in  th.e  en- 
creasing  perplexity  and  misery  of  every 
party. 


FATAL  CABINET  ; 


PROFLIGATE  MOTHER. 


TWO  VOLUMES  IN  ONE 


VOL.  II. 


BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED  BY  ISAIAH  THOMAS,  Jr. 

NO  5  CORNHILl-BqUARE. 

Samuel  Avery,  printer— 10  State-Stre^l . 
1810. 


THE 


FATAL  CABINET  ; 


OR  THE 


PROFLIGATE  MOTHER. 


CHAP.  I. 

Edward  Fitsmorton  was  becoming 
the  victim  of  tolly  and  depravity  ;  yet  he 
suffered  moments  of  the  deepest  remorse, 
and  he  would  then  willingly  have  stopped 
in  his  unsatisfactory  career,  and  on  the  bo- 
som of  Emily  breathed  his  penitence,  and 
sued  for  pardon.  Sometimes  he  falsely  es- 
timated the  mild  forbearance  of  her  charac- 
ter, imagining;  that  the  insensibility  of  her 
nature  secured  her  from  the  pangs  of  jeal- 
ousy or  inquietude  ;  but  more  frequently 
the  gentleness  of  her  conduct,  and  the  smile 
of  good-humour  which  beamed  upon  her 
countenance,  convinced  him  of  the  cruel 
injustice  and  folly  of  his  own  conduct. 


*  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Here  it  may  be  necessary  to  trace  the 
cause  which  first  estranged  his  mind  from 
peace.  On  the  morning-  of  that  day  when 
Emily  first  met  an  inebriated,  instead  of  a 
rational  companion,  Fitsmorton  would  have 
confessed  himself  one  of  the  happiest  of 
men.  It  happened  that,  on  this  day,  a 
beautiful,  but  long-neglected  Cabmet, \vh\ch 
had  belonged  to  his  first  wife,  caught  his 
attention,  by  being  placed  in  a  closet  where 
he  was  searching  tor  papers,  jble  careless- 
ly opened  the  cabinet,  and,  if  he  gave 
a  sigh  to  the  memory  of  its  once-lovely 
owner,  it  was  tlie  tribute  of  nature  and  of 
feeling  !  Removing  it  hastih',  he  unknow- 
ingly pressed  the  spring  of  a  private  drawer. 
Who  can  pourtray  his  astonishment,  when, 
on  opening  a  small  packet,  the  envelope  di- 
rected to  Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton,  he  dis- 
covered the  miniature  of  one  of  h.is  most 
esteeme<l  friends,  who,  as  before  mentioned, 
had  left  England  for  the  East-Indies,  some 
months  after  Fitsmorton's  marriage  with 
Miss  Dalrymple,  a  friend  in  whom  he  had 
reposed  unlimited  confidence,  and  to  whom 
he  had-been  liberal  in  the  extreme  on  pe- 
cuniary subjects,  and  the  report  of  whose 
death  had  been  the  source  of  deep  regret 
and  sorrow.  The  report,  however,  had  of 
late  been  contradicted,  and  Fitsmorton^s 
feelings  at  this  moment  alive  only  to  jeal- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  14S 

Emily  devoted  her  time  and  attention  in 
end eavjDU ring-  to  win  her  husband  back  to 
those  scenes  of  social  and  domestic  happi- 
ness so  congenial  to  her  own  taste  and  in- 
clination ;  he  even  appeared  sensible  ot  her 
tenderness  and  care,  and  well  was  she  re- 
quited if  by  any  little  innocent  device  she 
could  enjoy  his  society,  or  lead  to  ihat  con- 
fidence which  she  so  highly  appreciated. 
Sometimes  he  appeared  as  if  he  wished  to 
disclose  a  painful  secret;  with  tremulous 
agitation  she  would  await  so  interesting  a 
moment,  and  he  then  relapsing  into  apathy 
and  indifference,  all  her  air-built  hopes  of 
returning  peace  would  quickly  vanish,  and 
despondency  again  become  the  inmate  of 
her  bosom. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  was  in  the  country  with 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Granby,  and  Emily  dreaded 
her  return,  lest  she  should  discover  the 
great  chans^e  in  Edward^s  conduct.  Emily 
had  seen  Sir  George  Sinclair  at  the  pla(res 
of  public  resort  which  she  had  of  late  fre- 
quented. He  appeared  apparently  recov- 
ered from  the  effects  of  his  accident  and 
confinement,  but  intemperate  indulgence  at 
the  bottle,  or  any  irritation  of  mind,  some- 
times brought  on  that  derangement  of  in- 
tellect vvhich  had  nearly  proved  fatal  to  his 
mental  faculties.  Yet  still,  the  temporary 
remorse  of  his  feelings,  during  a  tedious 

VOL.  I.  13 


iA&  ■  The  fatal  cABmEx. 

illness,  was  no  longer  re ipe inhered  :  a  thou- 
sand vague  ideas  floated  on  his  iuiagma- 
tlon,  when  conlemplaiing  Emily's  sujjerior 
loveliness.  He  knew  she  was  neglected 
by  her  husband,  and  that  the  dissipated 
revels  of  ccmvivial  society  engrossed  his 
time  and  ruined  his  fortune.  Sir  George 
Sinclair  had  therefore  figured  to  himself 
that  Emily  was  suffering  in  solitude  and 
despair,  and  great  was  his  astonishment 
when  he  first  saw  her  in  public  ;  more  beau- 
tiful, more  fascinating  than  ever,  the  smile 
of  peace  irradiating  her  countenance,  and 
which,  to  a  casual  observer,  appeared  to 
spring  from  her  heart's  contentment 

The  frigidity  with  which  she  regarded 
him,  and  the  contempt  her  features  express- 
ed, excited  his  revengeful  and  indignant 
feelings  ;  and  supposing,  from  her  apparent 
serenity,  that  she  was  ignorant  of  P'itsmor- 
ton's  growing  imprudencies,  he,  with  the 
malice  of  a  demon,  and  the  folly  of  a  mani- 
ac, sent  her  an  anonymous  lerter,  setting 
forth  the  unmerited  injuries  she  was  threat- 
ened with,  from  the  conduct  of  her  hus- 
band ;  that  gamimj  was  even  ruining  his 
fortune;  and  even  hinting  at  some  connec- 
tions, inimical  to  the  delicacy  of  the  nup- 
tial bond.  In  promoting  their  disunion, 
Sir  George  Sinclair  was  indebteci  to  one  of 
bis  confederates  in  vice,  who  belonged  to  a 


THE  FATAL  CXBINET.  '  147 

club  which  Fitsmorlon  most  frequented, 
and  this  man,  by  saiting  the  teaiptation  as 
ciicumsiaiic-es  permit  ted,  he  was  led,  step 
by  ste|»,  tioin  domestic  habits,  till  the  charm 
ol  uuboiiiided  dissipation  subdued  every 
rational  teeling,  and  every  honourable 
pursuit. 

When  Emily  received  the  above-men- 
tioned letter,  she  was  singing  a  lullaby  to 
her  infant.  The  natural  strength  of  her 
mind  prevented  all  useless  and  violent  emo- 
tions ;  she  endeavoured  to  disbelieve  the 
infamous  contents;  she  would  elude  the 
malice  of  her  enemies,  by  consigning  it  to 
oblivion,  yet  the  tear  of  inquietude  trem- 
bled in  her  eye,  and  the  throb  of  suspicion 
agitated  her  bosom. 

"Edward  a  gambler! — Edward  unfaith- 
ful ! — xNO,  it  could,  not  be! — he  may  have 
erred  from  the  weakness  of  humanity,  but 
Ideliberate  vice  cannot  be  cherished  by  a 
mind  on'  e  the  seat  of  every  virtue  ! — Oh  ! 
might  she  prove  his  guardian-angel,  and 
;»ently  lead  him  to  the  paths  of  peace  !  But 
conviction,  not  suspicion,  should  alone  in- 
duce her  to  blame  and  to  remonstrate  !  for 
ibad  she  not  vowed  her  constancy  till  part- 
ed by  death  ! 

j     Then,  overpowered  by  the  contrariety  of 
liber  feelings,  tears  relieved  her  over-charged 


U«  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

heart.  She  supplicated  the  Disposer  of  al 
Events,  to  support  her  under  every  trial 
and  derived  peace  and  composure  of  min( 
from  her  sacred  appeal  to  heaven. 


eNS  or  THE  FIRST  TOLVItlE. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  s 

lousy  and  indignation,  he  gladly  would  have 
■sacrificed  this  false,  this  hypocritical  friend, 
)!to  the  justness  of  his  revenge  ;  and  he  form- 
ed a  sort  of  compact  with  his  frenzied  mind, 
that  the  moment  of  their  meeting  should 
prove  a  fatally  memorable  one.  The  letter 
to  Mrs.  Edward  Fiismorton  ran  as  follows  : 
••  1  snatch  one  instant,  my  ever  dear  love, 
/while  some  necessary  preparationsare  mak- 
ing, to  bid  you  once  more  a  tender  and  a 
long  adieu.  Let  the  accompaniment  of 
these  hurried  lines  soaietimes  remind  you 
of  a  man  who  Lves  but  in  the  hope  of  again 
pressing  you  to  his  throbbing  heart  !  Why 
has  fate  decreed  this  cruel  separation  ?  Why 
Idid  I  not  successfully  combat  your  pruden- 
tial scruples?  But  1  must  not  take  a  retro- 
[spective  view,  or  I  shall  be  unnerved,  unfit 
to  encounter  the  long,  the  djeary  gloom 
■which  darkly  threatens  the  horrizon  of  my 
fate.  Ever  remember,  my  dearest  love,  that 
the  sacred  union  of  our  hearts  is  a  solemn 
and  impressive  contract  ! — That  it  is  inde- 
pendent of  every  local  circumstance;  and 
that  time  and  absense  are  the  criterion  of 
real  a^ection.  Proudly  my  heart  whispers 
jf^That  though  other  ties  and  other  duties 
induce  you  to  command  this  temporary 
iseparation,  I  claim  the  first,  the  tenderest 
place  in  your's  ;  anfl  that  we  alike  live  but 
in  the  hope  of  meeting,  pierhaps,  to  part  no 


6  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

more  !  Time  wears  ;  I  must  say  the  dread- 
ed word — Farewell!  Angels  guard  and  blessi 
you  !  "  Dorville/^    i 

Fitsmorton,  though  scarcely  crediting  th^ 
evidence  of  his  senses,  was  soon  too  fatally 
convinced  of  the  villainous  duplicity  of  his 
.friend,  and  of  the  culpability  of  a  being  his 
heart  had  rested  on  in  blissful  confidence. 
A  definition  of  his  feelings  cannot  be  at- 
tempted. The  woman  he  could  once  have 
worshipped  as  an  angel — so  practised  a  de- 
ceiver !  Thatshe  could  quit  the  world  with 
such  a  weight  of  guilt  upon  her  mind  !  That 
she  could,  with  deep  hypocris}^  hang  over 
him  on  the  bed  of  sickness,  and  fall  at  last 
the  victim  of  her  cares  !  Merciful  Heaven  ! 
what  could  he  think  !  How  illusive  ;  how 
contradictory  her  character  !  The  child  he 
had  cherished  in   his   bosom  as   her  living 

image! That  child  ! Madness  was  in 

the  reflections  which  would  occur!  And 
then  the  frequent  and  cursory  remarks  that 
no  resemblance  could  be  traced  to  his  fea- 
tures, he  thoucrht  was  now  fatally  account- 
ed  for. — Farewell  the  bh.ssings  of  domestic 
peace,  Emily  !  with  every  fair  promise  of 
innocence  and  truth  !  Might  he  n«>t  be  cher- 
ishing a  viper  in  his  bosom,  which  would 
eventually  add  to  the  lacerating  stinsfs  he 
•ow  endured  ]  He  would  trust  no  man  ! — 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  7 

;he  would  suspect  every  woman  !  Oh  that 
he  could  instantly  realize  his  hopes  of  re- 
venge on  the  tell  destroyer  of  his  peace! 
sBut  he  would  carefully  guard  a  secret  so 
disgracetul  and  so  heart-breaking. 

'  Nature  at  length  subdued,  tears  of  shame 
and  indignation  fell  from  his  eyes.     Dis- 
daining to  encourage  what  he  deemed  an 
unmanly  weakness,  he  wildly  rushed  from 
I  the  house,  and,  recollecting  a  party  with 
which  he  had  refused  to  dine,  on  account 
of  wishing  to  amuse  his  beloved  Emily,  he 
unexpectedly  joined  it  at  the  hour  of  din- 
ner, and,  as  it  may  be  remembered,  return- 
ed home  in  a  state  of  intoxication.     The 
absence  of  his  mind  drew  on  him  the  com- 
mon-place  remarks  of  his  gay  associates. 
The  contents  of  the  letter,  the  miniature, 
too  evidently  bespoke  the  treachery  of  his 
friend,  and  the  frailty  of  the  woman  he  had 
confided  in  ;  to  think   that  he  had  been  so 
long  deceived,  abused,  the  easy  tool  of  such 
depravity,  and,  whilst  the  semblance  of  an 
angel  seemed  to  ensure  to  him  all  the  com- 
forts of  domestic  happiness,  she  was  carry- 
ins:  on  a  shameful  intercourse  with  a  man 
whose  conduct  was  equally  deceptive,  who 
had  claimed  the  first,  the  tenderest  place 
in  her  heart.     The  child  who  had  been  to 

him  the  solace  of  his  mournful  hours. 

Here  his  emotions  appearing  uncontroul- 


e  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

able,  he  attempted  some  awkward  apology, 
for  his  absence  of  mind,  and  inaitentiun  to' 
the  company  ;  and  endeavourtd  to  drown 
in  wine  the  teelings  which  oppiessed  him. 
The  tree  circulation  of  the  bottie  afforded 
a  temporary  relief;  and  the  artificial  spir- 
its of  the  hour  imposed  upon  his  undiscern- 
ing  companions,  and  they  parted  with  the 
conviction  of  the  good  effects  of  social  hi- 
larity ;  and  that  Fitsmorton  was  becoming 
the  life  of  every  convivial  meeting. 

His  interview  with  Emily  has  already 
been  described,  and  trom  that  tatal  evening 
she  dated  the  gradual  alterations  in  her 
husband's  temper  and  habits  of  life. 

He  had  at  first  frequented  the  haunts  of 
dissipation  to  escape,  as  it  were,  from 
.  scenes  which  too  powerfully  reminded  hini 
of  former  deceptions.  The  smiles  of  Emi- 
ly w^ere  daggers  to  his  heart  :  she  might  be 
weaving  a  fatal  web  for  his  undoing  ;  for 
Mar}?  Dalrymple  was  once,  apparently',  the 
most  innocent  and  lovely  of  God's  crea- 
tures. In  vain  he  endeavoured  to  regard 
her  child  with  affection  ;  imagination  con- 
verted suspicions  into  reality,  and  his  so- 
liloquies senerally  ended  with  a  hope  of  a 
just  revenge  on  the  author  of  his  unmerited 
injuries. 

The  strict  propriety  of  Emily's  conduct, 
the  chastened  admiration  she  excited  in 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  9 

all  beholders,  her  decided  preference  of  his 
comfort  and  happiness  to  her  own,  at  times 
conspired  to  do  her  every  justice,  and  by  a 
frank  avowal  of  the  conflict  he  endured, 
confess  every  illusive  doubt  of  her  recti- 
tude of  conduct,  and  at  once  abjure  the  er- 
rors of  his  own.  But  habit  had  already 
stamped  a  desultory  inclination  for  vice 
with  a  dangerous  permanency  ;  and  he 
found  it  dithcult  to  return  to  that  domes- 
tic intercourse,  once  the  charm  and  solace 
of  his  existence. 

When  Emily,  from  motives  dictated  by 
angelic  purity,  changed  the  tenour  of  her 
life  to  afford  him  that  variety  which  she 
imagined  his  taste  required,  suspicion  of 
somewhat  wrong  on  her  part,  agitated  his 
bosom  :  he  determined  to  watch  her  nar- 
rowly, and  to  scrutinize  her  every  action. 

How  would  her  indignant  spirit  have  dis- 
dained his  illiberal  surmises,  could  she  have 
guessed  the  cause  of  his  sedulous  attention 
to  her  conduct.  And  here,  unconsciously, 
she  triumphed.  Fitsmorton,  in  spite  of 
every  wayward  sentiment,  could  only  view 
her  as  the  fair  transcript  of  beauty,  guarded 
by  chaste  decorum  and  unaffected  proprie- 
ty. But  he  generally  apostrophising,  "  such 
once  was  Mary  Dahymple!"  it  seemed  to 
operate  as  a  powerful  spell  against  the  re- 
turn of  a  generous  confidence. 

VOL.  II.  2 


30  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Emily  had  hitherto  concealed  from  Mrs. 
Fitsmurtoii  the  neglect  she  experienced 
from  her  husband ;  ever  aiiempting  the 
most  plausible  excuses  for  his  absence 
from  home,  and  partiality  for  her  son,  ad- 
mitted the  possibility  of  his  various  and 
unforeseen  engagements.  Her  long  visit 
in  the  country,  at  Mr.  Gran  by 's,  had  pre- 
cluded the  suspicion  that  Edward  had  as- 
sumed a  different  character.  One  evening 
he  was  compelled  by  indisposition  to  re- 
main at  home.  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  had  pass- 
ed the  day  with  Emily,  delighted  with  the 
growing  improvements  of  her  grandson,  and 
no  less  charmed  with  little  Mary^s  interest- 
ing prattle.  Edward  appeared  restless  and 
uncomfortable;  but  this  she  attributed  to 
the  severe  cold  which  oppressed  him.  In 
the  course  of  conversation  she  seriously  la- 
mented that  Mrs.  Granby's  health  and 
spirits  were  much  on  the  decline.  '*  It  is, 
(she  continued)  a  delicate  subject  to  men- 
tion, even  at  this  fire-side,  and  1  scarcely 
know  how  to  hint  my  fears,  that  Mary  is 
not  so  happy  as  she  ought  to  be.  Granby 
is  the  most  tender  and  affectic)nate  of  hus- 
bands ;  it  may  be  that  her  present  situation 
affects  her  health,  and  consequently  her 
spirits  suffer  from  the  same  cause.  1  have 
only  to  wish  that  the  arrival  of  such  ache- 
rub  as  this,  (pressing  the  infant  Edward  to 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  11 

her  bosom)  may  s^ive  a  new  turn  to  her 
ideas,  and  then  1  think  it  will  be  difficult 
to  determine  which  are  the  happiest  pair, 
my  rustic  Strephon  and  his  wife,  or  the 
more  tashionalde,  but  equally  beloved  cou- 
ple, before  me," 

Emily  could  only  press  the  hand  which 
was  extended  towards  her;  the  vibration  of 
her  heart  amounted  to  agony  ;  tor  worlds 
she  could  not  have  met  her  husband's  eye. 
And  busying  herself  at^  the  tea-table,  she 
hoped  her  emotion  would  not  be  observed; 
a  sigh,  or  rather  a  stifled  groan,  from  Fits- 
morton  arrested  her  attention.  She  trem- 
ulously asked  if  he  felt  in  pain.  "  1  do, 
indeed,  Emily,  (he  replied)  pain  which  I 
believe  will  not  easily  be  mitigated."  He 
had  spoken  from  the  impulse  of  the  mo- 
ment, and  had  great  ditilculty  to  combat  his 
mother's  anxiety,  and  entreaties,  to  send 
immediately  tor  medical  advice.  He  soon 
regained  his  self-possession  ; — promised  to 
comply  with  her  wishes  if  not  better  in  the 
morning,  and  retired  early  to  rest,  suffering 
more  from  the  oppression  at  his  heart  than 
from  any  serious  or  alarming  indisposition. 

When  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  had  bid  Emily 
adieu,  sad  were  her  present  thoughts,  most 
sad.  her  future  prospects.  To  what  pur- 
pose should  she  conceal  her  unhappiness  : 
dreadful  indeed  is  that  grief  which  cannot 


ii  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

be  relieved  by  participation.  But  how 
could  she  wound  the  bosom  of  a  mother, 
by  exposing  the  tailings  of  a  son.  "  Mer- 
ciful heaven  !  (she  involuntary  exclaimed) 
support  my  mind  with  fortitude  to  bear  this 
disappointment  of  my  tenderest  hopes  as  I 
ought  to  do.  Restore  the  cherished  object 
of  my  heart  to  peace,  and  whatever  be  the 
cause  of  his  present  uneasiness,  oh,  be  it 
far  removed  from  the  misery  of  a  guilty 
conscience  !'^ 

Fitsmorton,  without  one  natural  propen- 
sity to  vice,  was  becoming  its  zealous  ad- 
herent. The  spirit  of  gaming,  like  an  over- 
Avhelming  torrent,  undermining  his  present 
peace,  and  his  future  comfort  ;  and  the  oc- 
cupation which  he  at  first  inditi'erentiy  re- 
sorted to,  as  a  refuge  from  bitter  reflection, 
was  now  become  the  master-passion  of  his 
soul. 

To  Alfred  Granby  he  dared  not  confide 
the  cause  which  had  estranged  him  from 
his  family  :  where  the  mind  is  sure  to  re- 
ceive condemnation,  it  seldom  discloses 
feelings  which  have  led  ^o  error,  or  seeks 
an  unlimited  confidence  in  any  human  be- 

So  inconsistent  was  his  judgment,  that! 
Emily,  heart-broken,  heroically  performing 
her  duties  in  life,  was  sometimes  secretly 
arraigned  by  her  infatuated  husband,  for 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  is 

not  feeling'  constantly  and  acutely  the  neg- 
lect of  her  comfort  and  happiness. 

"  She  must  know  what  a  dissipated  life 
I  have  lately  led  ;  and  if  she  loved  me  as  in 
the  first  months  of  our  marriage,  would  not 
her  heart  be  lacerated  by  disappointment 
at  not  being  the  primary  object  of  my  at- 
tention !   And  yet (here  he  paused, 

struck  by  the  injustice  of  his  own  observa- 
tion.) 

"  And  yet  has  she  not,  with  the  forbear- 
ance of  an  angel,  studied  my  every  wish — 
attentive  to  my  health  and  peace,  and  not 
by  the  weakness  of  tears  and  himentations 
evinced  her  own  regret  and  sorrow  ?  Have 
I  not  marked  each  turn  of  her  expressive 
countenance,  and  seen  only  anxiety  written 
thr-re,  when  distrust  and  suspicion  would 
have  assailed  the  mind  of  any  other  wo- 
man ?" 

Thus  thought,  thus  reasoned  Edward 
Fiismorton  ;  but  still  he  sought  not  the 
path  of  reformation,  nor  resisted  the  ruin- 
ous temptations  with  which  he  was  sur- 
rounded. He  was  already  much  involved, 
but  had  hitherto  scrupulously  guarded  that 
part  of  his  mother's  property  which  still 
remained  in  his  hands. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  being  one  morning  at  a 
fa-^hionabie  jeweller's,  ordering  some  altera- 
tion in  a  family  coral,  which  she  intended 
■     2  * 


a*  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

to  8:ive  to  her  grandson,  she  perceived  that 
Edward  had  just  left  the  shop;  curiosity, 
not  suspicion,  induced  her  to  inquire  into 
the  nature  of  his  business. 

The  man  shewed  her  a  costly  diamond 
sprig,  which  was  ordered  to  be  sent  home 
immediately.  Mrs.  Fitsmorton,  delighted 
with  her  son's  kind  attention,asked  no  fur- 
ther questions,  and  the  next  day  mention- 
ed the  subject  to  Emily  with  all  the  exul- 
tation of  paternal  fondness.  Emily  turned 
pale,  and  falteringly  said,  "  there  must  be 
some  mistake;  she  had  received  no  such 
present :"  and  bursting  into  an  agony  of 
tears,  she  found  it  impossible  to  avoid  an 
explanation  of  their  cause. 

Surprise,  grief,  and  indignation,  assailed 
the  mother's  heart ;  then,  pressing  the  pas- 
sive hand  of  Emily,  she  said — 

"  Well  can  I  appreciate  the  delicacy  of 
your  motives  for  concealing  from  me  the  al- 
teration of  Edward's  conduct.  Let  not  des- 
pair, my  dearest  creature,  enervate  the  fac- 
ulties ofyour  mind  :  hithertoyou  must  have 
borne  up  with  real  fortitude.  Emily  !  my 
beloved  Emily,  speak  to  me  !  All  will  yet 
be  well  :  our  Edward  is  not  naturally  of  a 
depraved  disposition  ;  depend  upon  it  some 
mystery  will  soon  be  unravelled. '^ 

Emily  for  some  time  vainly  tried  to 
speak  ;  and  had  not  the  sense  of  suffocation 


4 
THE  FATAL  CABINET.  15 

been  relieved  by  tears,  taial  might  have 
proved  the  struggle  other  mind.  In  silent 
agony  she  put  the  anonymous  billet  into 
Mrs.  Fitsmorton's  hands,  and  soon  after 
said — 

"  Chance  has  afforded  you  a  dreadful 
corroboration  of  what  is  here  advanced. 
Merciful  Heaven  !  for  what  am  1  reserved  ?" 

"  For  a  return,  dear  Emily,  of  every 
comfort  and  happiness  your  virtues  merit. 
Remember,  that  the  more  difficult  your 
task,  the  greater  will  be  your  recompense  ; 
and,  however  liable  the  helpless  state  of 
woman  to  unmerited  injury,  gentleness  of 
conduct  will  often  prove  its  successful  an- 
tidote ;  whilst  reproaches  and  impatience 
only  render  the  evil  more  serious.^' 

Emily  felt  the  truth  of  Mrs.  Fitsmorton's 
remarks;  but  still  the  contest  of  indigna- 
tion and  love  for  her  husband  nearly  over- 
powered the  stability  of  her  mind. 

"  She  would  never  reproach  him  with 
bitterness  ;  but  she  would  dispassionately 
acquaint  him  that  she  felt  the  cruelty  of 
his  conduct;  that  she  had  long  smothered 
the  growing  anguish  of  her  heart."  And 
then,  aware  how  delicate  was  the  part  she 
had  to  perform,  she  for  a  moment  gave  way 
to  the  feelings  of  despair;  but,  aroused  by 
Mrs.  Fitsmorton's  affectionate  solicitude, 
she  said  :  "  I  will,  my  dearest  madam,  en- 


tt  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

deavour  to  act  as  you  wish  1  should.  I  am 
sure  my  heart  is  inclined  to  lenity;  and  to 
bring  our  wanderer  back  to  peace  would 
prove  a  glorious  triumph  :  and  yet  how 
delicate  the  trial  !  If  1  resent  his  behaviour 
too  deeply,  a  cruel  separation  may  be  the 
consequence — and  1  thereby  involve  him 
in  the  depths  of  vice.  11  1  regard  his  infi- 
delity lightly,  and  stifle  every  indignant 
feeling,  how  reprehensible  and  indelicate 
were  my  conduct  !" 

It  were  vain  to  recapitulate  every  heart- 
breaking conference  which  passed  On  this 
painful  suhject.  But  when  Mrs.  Filsmor- 
ton  next  met  her  son,  she  overwhelmed 
him  not  with  deserved  reproaches.  She 
simply  said  : 

"  Chance  has  aflforded  me  some  know- 
ledge of  your  estrangement  from  your  wife 
and  family.  My  son,  bring  n<jt  the  '  grey 
hairs  of  your  mother  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave.'  Reduce  not  Emily  and  your  chil- 
dren to  beggary  !  Fall  not  beneath  the  con- 
tempt of  those  you  once  so  ibndly  loved,  by 
sutferino:  vour  reason  to  be  enslaved  bv 
habit,  and  the  best  affections  of  your  heart 
to  be  sacrificed  to  folly  and  dissipation." 

This  was  indeed  a  moment  of  agony  to 
Fitsmorton  :  fortune  had  been  fatally  nn- 
propitious.  He  had  staked  his  all,  exre|)t- 
ing"  the  family  estate  ;  and  eveii  his  mo- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  17 

ther's  property  had  been  nearly  sacrificed 
to  his  rashness.  Her  sudden  appeal  elec- 
trified his  feelings ;  contusion  and  remorse 
were  visible  in  his  countenance.  (She 
continued.) 

"  I  am  at  this  moment  incapable  of  rea- 
soning" with  you  as  1  wish  ;  but  be  assured 
that  every  pecuniary  assistance  in  my  pow- 
er shall  be  your's.  Would  that  my  purse 
were  as  capacious  as  my  heart !"  Then 
waving  her  hand,  as  if  to  prevent  any  far- 
ther conversation,  she  left  him  abruptly, 
and  left  him  a  prey  to  all  the  agony  of  a  sus- 
ceptible, but  guilty  mind.  Alas!  she  knew 
not,  when  she  talked  of  pecuniary  assist- 
ance, how,  like  a  drop  of  water  in  the  bo- 
som of  the  ocean,  was  the  relief  she  could 
offer !  The  diamonds  lavished  on  vice  and 
depravity  ;  his  neglect  of  her  darling  Emi- 
ly, appeared  more  afflictive  to  her,  in  their 
conseq  uences,  than  any  other  consideration, 
because  she  was  happily  ignorant  of  the 
extent  of  his  losses,  and  of  the  dreadful  in- 
fatuation which  gaming  imposes  on  the  hu- 
man mind. 

Had  Fitsmorton  seen  Emily  whilst  the 
feelings  of  remorse  were  alive  in  his  bosom, 
Jie  probably  might  have  been  affected  by 
the  tender  expostulations  of  the  woman  he 
was  so  unjustly  neglecting;  but,  unfortu- 
nately meeting  with  some  associates  of  his 


J8  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

gayest  hours,  he  accompanied  them  to  the 
usual  resort  of  conviviality  ;  and,  when  he 
returned   home,  he  overpowered    Emily's 
resolution  of  expostulatin,^  with  him,  bv 
ironically  thanking  her  for  having  complain- 
ed to  his  mother  ;  and,-h(^aled  with  wine 
and  smarting  under  the  losses  of  the  even  j 
ing,  they  seemed,   by  altercation,  only  t( 
widen  the  breach  betwixt  them  and  happi 
ness  ;  and  Emily  spent  the  night  in  vainl 
adopting  and  rejecting  plans   for  stemmin 
the  torrent  of  affliction,  which   threatene 
to  overwhelm  her  in  its  rapid  and  alarmin 
course. 


ex( 


I  liin 

,3  0 

'Ge., 
icirc 


that 
dillii 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  19 

CHAP.    II. 

1, 

i      Time    passed    wearily   on,    and    Emily 
^lCOuld  only  participate  with   Mrs.  I'ltsmor- 
iiiton  in  the  affliction  which  consumed  thtin. 
i, Miss   Travels    was   ttieir   hequent   visitor, 
land    had    introduced    Mr.    Macartny,    the 
(gentleman  to  whom  she  wds  engaged;  and 
lidnll  ot  comprelieiision  must  have  iJten  their 
[) minds,  couid  they  not  have  traced  on  Emi- 
ily's  countenance   the  sad  effects  cn  sorrow 
^.  and  anxiety.      Aiul,   whilst   Miss    Travers 
I  execrated  the  conduct  ot  Fitsmorton,  she 
endeavoured,  through   Mr.  xViacartny's  ex- 
ertions, to  trace  its  source,  and  ameliorate 
its  dreadful  etFects.     He  was  alike  interest- 
ed on  the  subject,  and  had,  more  than  once, 
hinted  his  dislike  of  Mr.  Franks,  who  was 
a  constant  visitor  at  Fitsmorton's   house; 
but,  as  he  knew  him  to  be  the  friend  of  Sir 
George   Sinclair,    iSlacartny,   from    various 
circumstances,  dreaded  their  united  machi- 
nations.    Mr.  Franks'  person  was  fine,  his 
manner  insinuating,  and  his  attentions  to 
the  unsuspecting  Emily  were  veiled  under 
that  delicacy  and  liberality  of  sentiment  so 
diihcult   to  be  distinguished  from   the  real 
benevolence  of  a  feeling  heart.      He  always 
mentioned  her  husband  with  tenderness  and 
esteem;  and,  whilst  he,  by  every  indirect 


so  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

method,  was  plunging  him  into  the  depths 
ot  vice,  he  talked  ot"  disinterested  friend- 
ship, as  the  grand  sweetener  ot  human  ex- 
isu  nee. 

He  spoke  to  her  ot  Sir  George  Sinclair 
in  me  s«.iiest  tones  of  compassion,  even 
hiiiiing  (hat  disappointment,  more  than  the 
uniortanate  accident  he  had  met  with,  con- 
tribiiied  to  encrease  that  occasional  de- 
raiiL-emeni  of  intellect  he  was  subject  to. 
Emily  had  too  much  good  sense  to  listen 
with  patience  when  this  subject  was  in- 
truded. Of  her  husband  only  could  JNlr. 
Franks  speak,  to  induce  her  to  attend  to 
his  conversation.  Her  whole  mind  was 
absorbed  on  one  distressing  subject  ;  and, 
though  she  endeavoured  to  doubt  the  truth 
of  the  anonymous  letter,  the  diamond  sprig, 
Fitsmorton's  occasional  distress  for  money, 
and  his  cruel  neglect  of  her,  all  contributed 
to  make  her  anticipate  the  atflictions  which 
might  occur.  Emily  frequently  heard  from 
her  excellent  friends  at  the  rectory.  Dr. 
Leicester,  being  in  town,  called  upon  her 
one  morning,  and  addressed  her  with  unu- 
sual exhilaration  of  spirits  ;  but,  receding  a 
few  paces,  he  appeared  struck  with  the  des- 
pondency of  her  countenance. 

"  How  is  this,  my  dearest  lady  ?"  He 
continuerl,  "  Mr.  Fitsmorlon  ;  your  chil- 
dren ;  all  well,  I  hopeT* 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  31 

She  looked  mournfully  at  him,  but  ac- 
knowledged they  were  in  good  health. 

"  I  am,  however,  the  messenger  of  good 
news,"  he  continued  ;  '^  the  lottery-ticket 
which  was  divided  between  you  and  Mrs. 
Leicester  is  come  up  a  prize  of  ten  thou- 
sand pounds,  principal  money  !  1  have  sa- 
ved you  all  unnecessary  trouble,  and  now- 
lay  Fortune's  favours  at  your  feet.  I  think 
I  can  guess  the  destination  of  this  treas- 
ure. All  good  wives  delight  in  making 
presents  to  their  husbands  ;  and  1  already 
anticipate  the  expression  of  my  dear  v/o- 
man's  features,  when  she  returns  the  notes 
into  my  hands." 

Emily  replied,  "  Can  money  purchase 
happiness  ?" 

*'  Assuredly  not  ;  but  often  proves  its 
great  auxiliary:  and  any  ur.iooked-for  ad- 
dition to  fortune  enlarges  the  sphere  of  be- 
nevolence ;  and  the  temporary  sufferer,  or 
the  more  serious  victim  of  poverty,  may 
feel  the  good  effects  of  our  unexpectedly 
encreased  fund  of  charity. 

*'  Hey  day  !  my  dear  lady  !  my  dear  Emi- 
ly !  Why  these  tears!  Something  afflicts 
you  very  deeply!  Look  upon  me  still  as 
your  father  ;  and,  if  it  be  in  my  power  to 
alleviate  any  distress,  confide  in  the  sincer- 
ity of  my  friendship  !  If  the  cloud  is  only 

VOL.   II,  3 


22  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

transient,  interference  may  prove  imperti- 
nent, or,  at  least,  unnecessary." 

"  My  excellent  friend  !  What  can  I  an- 
swer you?  I  am  afraid  my  sorrow  is  irreme- 
diable !" 

"  Say  not  so,  my  dear  child  !  but  come, 
I  will  give  you  time  to  consider  whether, 
as  a  father,  1  may  claim  your  confidence. 
1  intended  to  tax  your  hospitality,  and  to 
request  a  night's  lodging,  my  business  not 
permitting  me  to  leave  town  till  to-mor- 
row." 

"  Most  willingly,  my  dear  sir,  do  I  re- 
ceive so  welcome  a  guest ;  but  you you 

will  probably  dine  ttte-a-Ute  with  me." 

Soon  alter  Dr.  Leicester  parted  with  her 
till  the  hour  of  dinner.  She  received  a  has- 
ty note  from  Fitsmorton,  saying,  he  was 
obliged  to  leave  town  for  some  days.  Ac- 
customed now^  to  these  sort  of  absences,  she 
resolved  to  adopt  some  expedient  for  a 
proper  explanation  on  his  part,  and  on  hers 
a  full  confession  of  the  wretched  state  of 
anxiety  she  lived  in. 

"  And  is  it  come  to  this,  (she  involunta- 
rily exclaime(t)  he  who  was  once  the  dear 
partner  of  my  heart,  who  seemed  to  live  but 
jn  mv  presence,  whose  apparent  attachment 
bid  defiance  to  all  obstacles  to  our  union  ; 
that  he  should  thus  have  become  weaned 
"(jren  ;  ail  wcu,-^  of  his   family  ; — surely, 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  a^ 

surely,  the  pain  of  unrequited  affection  is 
as  great  affliction  as  a  woman  can  feel  ! — ■ 
The  time  was,  when  such  a  note  as  this 
from  Fitsmorton  would  have  broken  my 
heart  :  the  time  was,  when  the  absence  of 
a  day  was  a  source  of  regret  to  both.'' 

And  in  spfte  of  every  attempt  to  gain  pa- 
tience and  fortitude,  the  probable  destina- 
tion of  the  diamond  sprig  swelled  her  heart 
with  agony. 

Emily  generally  gjve  orders  to  be  denied 
to  company  when  Edward  was  absent;  but 
cither  forgetting  her  usual  restriction,  or  by 
some  casual  mistake — whilst  she  sat  ex- 
pecting the  return  of  Dr.  Leicester,  Mr. 
Franks  was  announced.  She  certainly  re- 
garded him  in  a  favourable  point  of  view, 
for  she  could  not  read  his  heart.  He  now 
well  knevv  that  there  was  but  one  step  be- 
tween Fitsmorton  and  inevitable  ruin.  He 
knew  that  he  was  gone  with  a  party  to 
Fitsmorton  Park,  and  probably  for  the  last 
-time;  as  he  had  every  reason  to  believe  the 
estate  would  soon  of  necessity  be  sacrificed, 
to  discharge  some  honourably  contracted 
del)ts.  Mr.  Franks,  therefore,  in  this  visit, 
affected  a  great  dejection  of  spirits,  per- 
mitting the  constantly  suppressed  sigh,  and 
embarrassed  manner,  to  excite  her  atten- 
tion, in  hopes  to  convince  her  of  his  heart- 
felt sympathy.     He  once  softly  ejaculated, 


§4  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

"  my  poor  infatuated  friend  ;"  and  before 
she  iiati  the  power  to  demand  an  explana- 
tion of  the  words,  lie  had  tenderly  seized 
her  hand,  and  bowing  upon  it,  as  if  to  con- 
ceal his  own  emotions,  he  incoherently  la- 
mented that  innocence  like  hers  should  be 
so-  deceived,  so  deeply  injured  :  he  then 
immediately  left  the  room,  for  knowing 
that  Emily  expected  Dr.  Leicester  to  dine 
and  to  sleep  at  the  house,  he  felt  little  in- 
clination to  meet  a  character  so  opposite 
to  his  own. 

"  Merciful  Heaven  I  (Emily  exclaimed, 
when  Franks  had  so  suddenly  departed,) 
am  1  then  become  an  object  of  commisera- 
tion to  all  the  world  ]  How  would  this  man, 
the  friend  of  my  husband,  dare  to  speak 
thus  to  me,  were  he  not  well  convinced  of 
the  cruel  neglect  1  have  experienced  ?  He 
surely  has  ever  proved  himself  Fitsmorlon's 
friend  ;  and  the  warmth  of  his  feelings  has 
perhaps  betrayed  him  into  this  momentary 
agitation  on  my  account  ;  but  had  my  life, 
my  peace  depended  on  it,  I  think  I  could 
not  have  questioned  him  on  the  subject." 

Dr.  Leicester  interrupted  this  mournful 
soliloquy,  and  Emily^s  mind,  softened,  and 
indeed  struggling  with  grief,  could  not  re- 
sist the  friendly  and  delicate  enquiries  of 
her  venerable  guest.  She  confidentially  nar- 
rated every  thing  which  had  occurred,  and 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  M 

requested  his  advice  how  to  act  under  such 
severe  disappointments. 

*'  My  dear  child,  (replied  Dr.  Leicester,) 
put  your  trust  in  God,  for  he  defendeth  the 
cause  of  the  oppressed;  ail  human  means 
are,  however,  to  be  pursued  to  counteract 
evil.  Infatuated  as  our  poor  friend  now  is, 
the  time  will  come  when  he  will  appreciate 
your  worth.  Desperation  and  violence  gen- 
erally detieat  their  own  purpose  ;  let  no  in- 
judicious reproaches  fall  from  your  lips, 
you  have  a  ditficult  task  to.  perform  ;  but 
Fitsmorton  is  of  a  noble  nature. 

"  One  false  step  has,  in  all  probability, 
led  to  those  paths  of  temptation,  more  fre- 
quently declaimed  auainst  than  resisted  by 
erring-  humanity.  Dear  lady,  we  will,  if 
possible,  save  him  from  farther  ruin." 

"  Were  J  the  only  sufferer,  I  could  bet- 
ter support  myself  under  these  heart-break- 
ing trials,  but  my  children,  my  husband's 
dear  and  respectable  mother.  When  1  con- 
sider that  one  evening's  folly  may  involve 
us  all  in  irremediable  ruin,  my  mind  sinks 
with  despair  at  so  evident  a  prospect  of 
the  misery  which  may  await  us. 

"  How  I  did  love  him,  heaven  and  my 
own  heart  can  onlv  know." 

"  A'ld  depenrl  Ui)on  it,  my  dear  creature, 
that  he  still  loves  you  ;  evil  propensi- 
ties cannot  have  takf'n  so  deep  a  root  in  his 
3* 


2&  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

heart,  as  to  have  eradicated  every  feeling  of 
nature.  Your  contession  of  his  apparently 
returningconfidenee,  the  struggles  his  mind, 
you  acknowledge,  has  experienced  ;  all  pro- 
claim it  alive  to  the  still,  but  powerful  voice 
of  conscience." 

"  VYhence,  my  dear  friend,  can  originate 
his  dislike  to  our  poor  little  girl  ?'^ 

"  That,  I  confess,  surprises  me  ;  nay, 
baffles  my  penetration  to  unravel  at  pre- 
sent. You,  my  dear,  must  calmly,  and  dis- 
passionately, talk  to  him.^^ 

"  it  is  more  difficult  to  accomplish  than 
you  can  imagine." 

"  Then  write  to  him  ;  let  vour  heart 
speak,  and  who  can  he  deaf  to  its  dictates  ? 
My  dear  lady,  all  will  yet  be  well." 

"  My  dear  Sir,  you  would  willingly  give 
peace  to  the  mourner's  heart ;  but  you  shall 
see  my  yet  remaining  treasures.  And 
whilst  they  are  spared  to  me,  I  have  some 
consolation  left." 

Emily  then  rang  the  bell  for  the  chil- 
dren, and  exerted  her  spirits  to  the  utmost. 
In  the  evening  Mrs?  Fitsmorlon,  Mr.  Ma- 
cartny,  and  Miss  Travers,  passed  some 
hours  with  her  and  Dr.  Leicester,  each 
endravouring  to  converse  with  serenity, 
though  each  ruminating  on  the  dreaded 
future. 

Fitsmorton,  as   an   act   of  desperation, 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  27 

visited  his  paternal  dwelling.  Had  he  been 
alone,  reflection  might  have  proved  saluta- 
ry to  his  distracted  mind  ;  but  reflection  in 
the  society  which  accompanied  him,  was 
not  the  order  of  the  day.  Still,  in  some 
moments  of  occasional  solitude,  the  deep 
regrets  of  erring  humanity  stole  into  his 
asritated  bosom. 

"  How  often,  (said   he,)   have  I  antici- 
pated the  fond  deiight  of  seeing  my  Emily 
the  mistress  of  this  charming  place.     Now 
my  undone  and  ruined  Emily!   How  shall 
I  bear  thy  just  reproaches!  And  shouldst 
thou  not  be  the  angel  thou   appearest,  bit- 
ter indeed  will   prove  the  hour  of  retribu- 
tion ;  for  my  neglect  can  alone  have   led 
thy  mind  to  error.      My  poor  boy  !  he  may 
live    to  curse  the  memory  of  his  father." 
Then,   nearly  frantic  from  a  paroxysm  of 
•  despair,  unavailing  remorse,  not  genuine  re- 
.  pentance,  led  him   to  drown  his  feelings  in 
the  intemperate  circle  of  conviviality  ;  and 
whilst  the  sparkling  goblet  gave  point  to 
wit,  and  the  graceful  periods  of  eloquence 
flowed  from  his  tonsfue,  the  suflxirings  of 
Emily,  the  ruin  of  himself,  and  the  future 
beggary  of  his  child,  were  alike  disregarded 
and  forgotten.     On  his  return  to  London, 
two   letters  of  very  difl^erent  import  were 
given  to  him.     One  ran  thus : 


38  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

"  Look  at  home,  it  is  a  wise  father  who 
knows  his  own  children. 

"  Anonymous." 
• 
The  other  letter  was  from  Emily  : 
*'  In  vain  have  I  courted  your  attention, 
my  dearest  Edward,  to  listen  to  the  dic- 
tates of  a  heart  bending  under  the  weight 
of  disappointment  and  sorrow.  Long  have 
I  been  obliged  to  bear  in  silence  your  cruel 
neglect,  and  total  estrangement  from  those 
domestic  comforts  and  habits  which  once 
formed  the  chief  blessing  of  your  existence  : 
but  I  will  not  dwell  upon  my  own  sutJ'er- 
ings ;  you  know  my  heart,  and  if  yours  be 
not  dead  to  humanity  and  feeling — oh,  you 
must  well  know  the  severity  of  those  pangs 
which  arise  from  tht^  indifference  of  a  be- 
loved object !  That  1  have  loved  you  with 
all  the  tenderness  and  delicacy  of  affection, 
with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  passion,  my  poor 
lacerated  bosom  scruples  not  to  acknow- 
led'^e.  My  dependence,  next  to  the  Al- 
mighty, rested  on  you  ;  my  very  existence 
seemed  to  depend  on  your  approving  smile  ; 
r.nd  the  world^s  boasted  variety  1  could 
gladly  have  shut  out  for  the  'dessing  of  your 
loved  society.  We  were  happy  beyond  the 
common  lot  of  mortals  ;  and  1  now  ask, 
vv^ith  the  trembling  agitation  of  a  disappoint- 
ed heart,  what  has  caused  the  sad  tatal  al- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  29 

teration  I  experience  ?  I  ask  whether  pecu- 
niary distresses  disturb  your  miiid  ?   Whe- 
ther we  are  even  threatened  with  the  near 
!; approach  of  poverty?   Recollect  we  were 
not  g-iven  to  one  another  merely  to  bask  in 
ithe  sunshine  of  a  summer's  day.     1  have 
resolution  to  weather  any  storm  of  adver- 
sity, if  supported  by  the  object  of  my  best 
laifections.      Believe  me,   my  husband,    I 
would  sooner  share  your  fate  in  a  prison, 
I  than  shine  in  the  gaudy  trappings  of  unsub- 
stantial ambition.     I  must  speak  still  plain- 
ler;  I  must  ask  you  why  you  have  so  long 
^shunned   those   domestic   habits,  once  so 
icongenial  to  your  mind?  I  have  taken  my 
(Own  conduct  severely  to  task,  and  some 
itime  ago  I  fancied  that  the  monotony  of 
our  life  at  home  caused  you  to  seek  varie- 
!ty  abroad.     I  tber/ fore  assumed  a  gaiety  I 
cjould  not  feel,  and,  for  your  sake,  courted 
dissipation.    You  may  remember  how  soon 
^you   lired  of  the  promiscuous  throng  we 
were  obliged  to  encounter :  and  how  vain, 
have  been  my  endeavours  to  regain  your 
confidence.    Dear  Edward,  I  ask  why  such 
sthings    are?    Why   the   being   who   onca 
iseemed  so  dear  to  you,  is  now  become  an 
object  of  indifference?  Tell  me  the  truth, 
and  lean  bear  all  things. — Oh,  tell  me  the 
dreadful   truths.      Has   another   estranged 
\your  affections  from  me  ?  No  illiberal  jeal- 


30  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ousy  dictates  the  heart-breaking  question  : 
I  have  good  reasons  for  urging  it  with  so- 
lemnity. By  chance  alone  1  know  that  a 
diamond  sprig  was  purchased  by  you  ;  but 
"Whom  to  adorn  1  know  not,  nor  do  I  wish 
to  be  iuibrined.  Now,  Edward  !  how  shall 
I  express  myself  in  terms  sufficiently  deli- 
cate? How  make  you  comprehend  ihesoul- 
harrowing  emotions  with  which  1  am  agi- 
tated ?  It  foJiy  has  led  you  astray,  abjure 
your  ^irorjand  return  to  happiness  and  love. 
But  if  error  is  voluntarily  continued,  if  the 
best  affections  of  the  heart  are  bartered  for 
the  delusions  of  vice,  and  the  marriage  vow 
is  violated  with  impunity,  then,  Edward, 
though  the  struggle  costs  me  my  life,  we 
part,  and  perhaps  we  part  for  ever !  Tell 
me  you  have  erred,  but  tell  me  you  will  err 
no  more,  and  I  will  receive  your  returning 
love  and  confidence,  as  the  grand  restorer 
of  jny  long-lost  happiness. 

"  Yet  another  question,  (it  is  long  since 
I  have  held  so  much  intercourse  w-ith  you.) 
Why  is  our  little  girl  neglected  by  her  fa- 
ther ?  Were  you  to  say,  '  dear  Emily,  I 
must  love  this  child  for  the  sake  of  the  be- 
ing who  gave  her  birth  ;'  such  feeling  on 
your  part  would  be  but  natural ;  and  on 
mine  such  a  generous  confidence  would  be 
highly  gratifying.  So  lovely,  so  interesting 
a  child  !  believe  me  when  I  say,  she  di- 


I 


THE  FATAL  CABINET,  si 

vides  my  heart  with  our  charming  infant. 
In  a 'word,  whatever  be  the  cause  oi  your 
estrangenK  nt,  confide  wholly  in  me.     My 
heart  never  ceases  to  pray  to  the  Almighty 
to  arm  you  with  resolution  to  resist  every 
ruinous  temptation,  and  1  entreat  you  by 
all  your  hopes  oi  happiness,  both  here  and 
hereafter,  to  turn   from  ihe  path  of  certain 
destruction.     Too  well  you  must  know  to 
what  infatuation   I  allude  ;  think  of  your 
dear  and  respectable  mother,  of  your  infant 
son,  and  of  your  once-beloved  Emily;  and 
let  the  ties  of  duty  and  affection  supersede 
every  other  consideration.     You   will  per- 
haps wonder  how  1  am  so  well  informed  of 
your  proceedings.     J  aim  at  no  mystery  ; 
let  us  seek  one  hour  of  confidence;  calum- 
ny shall  then  he  confuted,  or  indiscretion 
rememberefl  no  more?  A  twelvemonth  past, 
had  I  been   Uiid  that  1   must  have  sought 
this  method  to  arrest  your  attention,  dear 
Edward,  could  I  have  believed  it  ]  lor  there 
was  a  time,  when  even  a  sigh  from  my  bo- 
»om  gave  pain  to  yours.     And  now  I  may 
:onsume  my  life  in  sisjlis  and  tears,  and  re- 
ceive   neither    sympathy    nor   indulgence. 
Ai^ain  I  entreat  you  to  be  candid,  to  be 
lincere,  and  to  return   to  the  alfectionate 
i>osom  of  your  once-beloved 

"  Emily." 


32  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Fitsmorton,  wholly  taken  up  with  the 
perusal  of  Emily's  letter,  had  in  abseuce  of 
mind,  put  the  other  into  his  pocket  without 
reading  it.  Conviction  of  his  own  follies, 
and  of  his  wife's  superiority,  dyed  his  cheek 
with  the  blusii  of  shame. 

'^  What  am  I  about  I  What  injustice  am 
I  guilty  of  towards  this  dear,  this  inesti-  . 
mable  woman  ?  but  alas  !  she  yet  knows 
not  of  half  my  follies.  1  have  been  throw- 
ing away  an  invaluable  jewel  ;  hurrying  by 
fast  steps  to  the  verge  of  ruin,  because  a 
villain  in  the  form  of  a  friend,  deceived  my 
unsuspecting  mind  ;  because  the  being  on 
whose  fidelity  and  honour  I  firmly  rested, 
laughed  at  ray  credulity  ;  but  is  virtue  then 
extirpated  f;om  the  world,  since  1  have  in- 
dividually suffered  from  hypocrisy  and 
vice  ?  Idiot !  madam  !  that  1  have  been  ! 
But  that  I  dread  the  proud  superiority  of 
my  Emily's  mind  ;  I  would  throw  myself 
on  her  mercy,  and  with  tears  of  penitence 
confess  the  infatuation  which  has  undone 
me." 

But  soon  aroused  by  the  bitterness  of 
reflection,  he  traversed  the  room  in  all  the 
agitation  of  despair;  he  had  desperately 
involved  his  affairs,  he  was  bound  in  hon- 
our to  pay  large  sums  of  money,  Vv^hich  on- 
ly the  sale  of  the  family  estate  could  an- 
swer :  five  thousand  pounds  in  his  hands, 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  35 

part  of  his  mother's  property,  was  the  only 
wreck  of  fortune  left :  at  length,  curses  on 
the  villain   whose  deceptive  conduct  had 
thus  unsettled  his  principles,  burst  from 
his  quivering  lips,  and  he  imprecated  ven- 
geance on  the  destroyer's  head,  should  fate 
ever  bestow  the  power  of  punishment.  . 
'      He    would   conceal  from   Emily — from 
the  whole  world — the  disgrace  which  rank- 
led at  his  heart  :   but  he  would  confess  to 
her  the  infatuation  which  had  misled  him, 
and  explain  every  circumstance  relative  to 
the  diamond  sprig — a  momentary  satisfac- 
tioii  pervading-  his  mind  that  he  could  do 
so   with   honour  (comparatively  speaking) 
to  himself.     Then   again  'dreading  the  su- 
periority of  Emily,  and  as  soon  anticipating 
i  the  svi'eet  indulgence  of  her  mind,  and  the 
;  heart-felt  joy  with  which  she  would  vvel- 
,  come  his  returning  confidence,  he  immedi- 
]  ately  sought  her  in  her  dressing-room.    She 
did  not  know  he  was   returned   to  town, 
~;and  had  just  left  home  with  the  nurses  and 
r  the  children,  to  try  the  effect  of  air  and  ex- 
jercise  upon  her  health  and  spirits.      Fits- 
jmorton  supposing  she  might  he  in  the  nur- 
sery, ascended  the  stairs  in  breathless  ex- 
pectation :  the  room  was  empty.      He  soon 
learned  from  the  servants  by  whom  their 
mistress  was  accompanied   in  her  airing; 
'and   having  some  unpleasant  business  to 
VOL.  ri.  4 


34  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

transact,  on  the  subject  of  money,  he  left 
the  house,  determining  to  surprise  Emily 
with  his  company  at  the  hour  of  dinner. 
His  mind  had  nearly  recovered  its  usual 
tone  :  he  walked  along  in  silent  rumina- 
tion, when  the  letter  which  he  put  into 
his  pocket  unopened,  arrested  his  attention. 
After  havingreadthecontents — "  Pshaw! — 
(he  mentally  ejaculated) — nothing  now  can 
shake  my  resolutions  !"  He  read  it  again. 
*'  Some  one  certainly  knows  how  1  am  situ- 
ated ;  or  this  is  a  very  strange  coincidence 
of  circumstances.^' 

In  spite  of  reason,  he  felt  discomposed 
and  irritated  ;  and,  at  that  moment,  he  was 
accosted  by  his  supposed  friend,  and  con- 
stant companion,  Mr,  Franks.  After  the 
usual  salutations  of  the  day,  he  said — 

"  You  seem  absent  and  uneasy,  my 
good  friend.  I  hope  you  found  Mrs.  Fits- 
morton  and  all  well  at  home  during  your 
absence.     For,  to  the  heart  of  sensibility 

"  D n  sensibility  !"  Fitsmorton  ex- 
claimed. "  Forgive  me,  Franks  ;  1  have 
just  met  wilh  a  triflmg  disappointment ; 
but  'tis  over  now  ? Any  thing  new  to- 
day V 

"  No,"  replied  Franks ;  "  but,  indeed, 
excepting  calling  once  at  your  house,  I 
have  hardly  been  from  home  since  you  left 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  35 

town  ;  a  most  tremendous  cold  has  confined 
me." 

"  Then  you  know  as  much  of  my  family 
as  [  do  myself.  I  am  just  arrived  in  Lon- 
don ;  and  1  have  not  yet  seen  Mrs.  l^'its- 
morton." 

"  1  never  saw  her  look  better  in  my  life, 
very  gay,  too  !  1  can  tell  you,  in  your  ab- 
sence.'* 

"  Very  gay !"  (with  an  incredulous 
smile.) 

"  The  day  I  called  at  your  house,  she 
really  seemed  in  charming  spirits,  and  ex- 
pected a  gentleman  to  dine  and  sleep  there, 
but  good  morning,  my  dear  fellow  :  I  have, 
at  this  moment,  a  very  particular  engage- 
ment on  my  hands  ;  and  1  am  already  be- 
yond the  appointed  time.  You  will  meet 
our  usual  party  to-day." 

Then,  without  waiting  for  Fitsmorton's 
answer,  he  left  him  precipitately,  and  was 
out  of  sight  in  a  moment. 

Fitsmorton,  the  sport  of  momentary 
feeling,  walked  on,  till  within  sight  of  the 
house  where  the  usual  party  assembled  to 
dine  ;  and  having  some  letters  to  write  con* 
cerning  the  before-mentioned  business,  he 
determined  to  enter  the  house,  and  to  de- 
fer his  meeting  with  Emily  until  the  even- 
ing, and  hoped  something  would  lead-  to 
an  explanation  of  Mr.  Franks'  apparently 
unguarded  speech. 


3t>  THE  TATAL  CABINET. 

That  a  gentleman  should  dine  itie-a-Ule 
with  Emily,  and  sleep  at  thejiouse  during 
his  absence — was  a  circumstance  which, 
in  the  present  irritable  state  of  his  mind, 
gave  him  more  inquietude  than  he  chose 
to  acknowledge. 

The  letters  he  was  obliged  to  write  were 
to  promise  a  prompt  payment  of  some  gamb- 
ling debts.  Tradespeople  were  becoming 
importunate  creditors;  and,  to  afford  a 
temporary  oblivion  of  despair,  he  yielded 
to  the  fascination  of  unbounded  conviviali- 
ty ;  and  flushed  with  wine,  in  all  the  exhi- 
laration of  artificial  spirits,  he  invoked  the 
delusive  smiles  of  fortune,  and  returned 
home  in  the  evening,  ruined  beyond  re- 
demption, and  met  the  anxious  and  sus- 
ceptible Emily — in  a  situation  little  calcu- 
lated to  soothe  her  mind,  or  to  quiet  her 
apprehensions. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  37 

,     CHAP.   111. 

Short-lived  are  generally  the  friend- 
ships of  the  unprincipled  and  the  wicked  ! 
Sir  George  Sinclair  had  confided  to  Mr. 
Franks  his  passion  for  Emily,  and  the  im- 
possibihty  of  beirig  again  publicly  intro- 
duced to  her  society. 

Franks  undertook  to  describe  to  her  Sir 
George's  penitence  for  past  offences,  and 
to  express  his  hopes  of  pardon. 

Not  to  be  too  prolix  on  the  iniquitous 
plots  they  wished  to  form — an  inconvenient 
debt  of  Mr.  Franks'  was  to  be  cancelled, 
whenever  Emily  consented  personally  to 
receive  the  Baronet's  excuses, — Franks 
knew  it  never  could  be  accomplished  ;  but, 
an  adept  in  deception,  he  fabricated  plans 
as  existing  circumstances  permitted,  and 
became  in  love  (if  th^  expression  may  be 
so  profaned)  with  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  himselL 
Hence  that  softness  of  manner  and  insinu- 
ating con<Uict  which  had  so  forcibly  struck 

Mr.    M  icartny   and    Miss  Travers. Sir 

Ge.)rG;e  Sinclair  and  Mr.  Franks,  just  about 
this  period,  materiaJly  differed  on  the  set- 
tlinsf  of  sonif  m'>ney  matters.  The  former 
being  -subject  to  fits  of  violent  passion,  (par- 
ticularly after  a  free  circulation  of  the  bot- 
tle,) almost  amountin'^'  to  mental  derange- 
4  * 


Sd  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ment,  frequently  uttered  the  most  offen- 
sive and  abusive  language,  which  his  con- 
venient friend  had  long  borne  in  silence, 
and  with  well-dissembled  patience.  But 
a  very  serious  breach  now  occurred — and 
they  parted  with  mutual  threats,  and  mu- 
tual disgust.  Franks  determined  to  take 
an  early  opportunity  of  discovering  to  Emi- 
ly Sir  George  Sinclair's  nefarious  views  and 
intentions,  to  warn  her  of  his  future  machi- 
nations, of  the  derangement  of  intellect  he 
was  subject  to — to  profess  himself  her 
friend,  and,  perhaps,  insidiously  to  talk  of 
love  under  the  mask  of  friendship.  He 
knew  she  was  neglected  by  her  husband  ; 
he  knew  that  Fitsmorton's  mind  was  in  a 
distracted  state,  and,  by  infusing  therein 
some  w^ell-timed  suspicions  of  Emily's  vs^ant 
of  prudence,  he  hoped  to  encrease  their 
mutual  unhappiness. 

When  Emily  returned  from  the  airing 
with  her  children,  she  felt  disappointed  and 
mortified  to  have  been  from  home,  when 
Fiismorton  had  so  evidently  wished  to 
mi^ct  with  her :  but  she  was  soon  aroused 
from  unpleasant  reflections,  by  the  servamt 
informing  her  that  a  young  woman  earnest- 
ly requested  admittance.  Little  inclined 
to  see  a  strancjer,  she  desired  to  know  the 
business.  The  servant  said,  to  Mrs.  Fits- 
morton  only  would  she  disclose  it.     Emi- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  99 

ly,  imagining  it  might  be  some  pensioner 
of  Mrs.  Fitsmorton's,  ordered   the  young 

woman  to  be  admitted. She  curtsied— 

in  silence  and  confusion  ;  but,  seeming  to 
derive  courage  from  Emily^s  conciliating 
manner,  attempted  an  explanation  of  her 
intrusion. 

Emily  felt  alarmed;  a  thousand  vague 
ideas  floated  on  her  mind,  but  endeavour- 
ing to  suppress  her  own  emotions,  she  said, 

"  Sit  down,  young  woman,  take  time  to 
recover  yourself;  probably  it  was  with 
Mrs.  Fitsmorton  you  wished  to  converse." 

"  No,  madim,  my  business  only  con- 
cerns Mrs.  Edv\ard  Fitsmorton."  The  pal- 
pitation of  Emily's  heart  was  almost  un- 
controulable.  She  examined  the  young 
woman's  countenance,  it  seemed  to  express 
both  resentment  and  shame. 

"  Speak  then  immediately  the  purport  of 
your  visit,"  (Emily  at  length  articulated.) 

"  I  come,  madam,  to  warn  you  of  your 
danger,  and " 

"  Be  quick  in  your  communications  : 
from  whence  came  you  ?  and  what  danger 
can  you  have  the  power  to  warn  me  of?" 

"  I  live,  madam,  in  Mr.  Franks'  family; 
his  aunt,  with  whom  he  occasionally  re- 
sides, engaged  me,  some  time  ago,  as  a  sort 
of  upper  servant.  Sir  George  Sinclair  was 
very  often  at  the  house  ;  and  but  the  other 


4i»  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

day,  (indeed  it  was  quite  by  chance,)  I  be- 
ing at  work  in  a  sitting-room  which  leads 
to  another  apartment,  only  separated  by 
folding-doors,  1  heard  Sir  George  Sinclair 
and  Mr.  Franks  enter  the  room.  At  first 
they  spoke  very  low  ;  but  soon,  apparently 
forgetting  this  caution,  the  doors  being  on- 
ly slightly  put  to,  1  heard,  very  distinctly, 
Mr.  Franks  declare  that  he  would  do  all 

he  could   to to to  put  you  in  the 

power  of  Sir  George  Sinclair — that  you  had 
already  expressed  great  pity  for  him — and 
that  he  had  little  doubt,  from  the  neglect 
you  experienced  from  your  husband,  that 
you  would  pardon  every  past  offence. — 
They  then  spoke  very  low  again.  I  judged 
from  the  few  \vords  1  could  hear,  that  their 
entire  reconciliation  was  to  be  the  conse- 
quence of  your  good  understanding  with 
Sir  George  Sinclair  ;  and,  after  haviny  talk- 
ed a  <J:reat  deal  upon  the  subject,  Mr.  Franks 
said — oh  madam,  he  is  such  a  deceiver  ! — 
'  that  you  were  an  angeP — and — and — J  — 
thouo-ht  it  my  duty  io — to  tell  you  what  I 
had  heard," 

"  This  is  a  very  extraordinary  story," 
Emily  replied.  "  Be  quite  correct,  my 
good  ^irl,  in  what  you  advance  :  and  let 
me  ask  you  what  induced  your  visit  heie  1 
Was  it  merely  in  justice  and  compassion 
towards  me  ?  Or  did  you  feel  any  personal 
resentment  on  the  subject  I" 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  4i 

The  young-  woman  turned  pale — she 
seemed  ready  to  faint ;  and  Emily,  on  open- 
mg;  her  cloak,  fancied  she  peiceived  a  pe- 
culiarity in  her  shape  not  quite  consistent 
with  the  innocence  she  had  intended  to 
manifest. 

"1  have  indeed  told  you  the  truth,  ma- 
dam," was  her  reply. 

*'  Be  candid  and  sincere,  and  I  may  prove 
your  friend.  Will  you  promise  to  answer 
me  one  ^lestion  truly,  and  without  eva- 
sion ?" 

"  Such  a  lady  as  you  are  cannot  ask  any 
improper  question.  I  may  venture  to  say 
I  will  answer,  without  hesitation." 

"  Then  tell  me  ;  and  tell  me  truly — are 
vou  a  married  woman  ?" 

A  momentary  suffusion  of  crimson  dyed 
the  poor  girl's  cheek  ;  but,  struggling  to 
•suppress  such  an  evidence  of  feeling,  she 
replied  : — 

"  This  is  a  strange  and  a  most  unexpect- 
ed question,  indeed  !  nor  can  I  imagine  why 
lyou  ask  it.  [She  again  coloured,  as  if  in 
resentment  and  indignation.]  1  thought 
[to  do  you  a  service,  madam,  by  coming 
here — and  what  do  I  get  in  return  ? In- 
deed I  cannot  guess  \'our  meaning." 

"  Your  own  conscience,  young  woman, 
can  best  comprehend  my  meaning." 

"  You  need  not  be  angry,  madam  ;  I 


42  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 


have  said  nothing  I  am  ashamed  of,  I  have 
done  my  duty,  and  exposed  Sir  George  and 
Mr.  Franks.  You  know  you  are  at  liberty 
to  make  what  use  you  please  of  my  well- 
intentioned  visit.  So  1  wish  you  a  good 
morning,  madam." 

Emily  arose,  and,  taking  the  young  wo- 
man's hand,  thus  spoke  to  her  : — 

"  I  certainly  have  little  right  to  detain 
you,  if  yon  wish  to  go  immediately  ;  but  be 
seated  again,  nnd  hear  what  1  have  to  say  to 
you.  1  ask  you  once  more,  to  deal  candid- 
ly with  me.  In  whatever  way  you  may 
have  been  unfortunate,  I  can,  perhaps,  be- 
friend you — by  every  necessary  alleviation 
of  any  critical  distress.  We  are  sli  liable 
to  error,  which  becomes  doubly  criminal 
when  deliberately  persisted  in." 

The  young  womin  burst  into  tears- 
Emily's  voice  and  manner  had  reached  her 
heart;  but  still  any  particular  confession 
died  u()on  her  lips.  She  continued  to  sob, 
as  if  in  violent  despair;  and,  at  length,  fal- 
ter! ngly  said  : — 

"  Were  all  ladies  like  you,  madam  ! 

I  am  so  miserable!^ what   wdi  become 

of  me  ?" 

Emily  soothed  her  with  gentleness. 

"  You  would  spurn  me  from  your  pre- 
sence, were  1  to  confess  all — you  would  be- 
tray me  to  my  friends." 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  43 

"  I  promise  you  I  will  not — confide  in 
me  with  sincerity/' 

"  Were  my  poor  father  acquainted  with 
his  daughter's  credulity  and  tolly,  I  am  sure 
it  would  kill  him.  1  shall  never  see  him 
again." 

Poor  Emily  had  undergone  a  variety  of 
distressmg-  emotions — it  might  be  her  own 
husband's  depravity  she  was  about  to  be 
confirmed  in  ;  but,  exerting- every  effort  of 
resolution,  she  again  urged  her  agitated 
companion  to  tell  her  story  with  candour 
and  truth. 

"  Weil,  madam — I  will  indeed  tell  you 
all  the  truth.  I  am  the  daughter  of  a  re- 
spectable farmer  in  the  country.  We  are  a 
very  large  family  :  and,  about  a  twelve- 
month ago,  my  father  was  induced  to  let 
me  come  up  to  town  to  a  genteel  service. 
Oh  what  good  advice  and  cautions  he  gave 
me  to  recommend  a  virtuous  conduct  !  A 
very  particular  friend  introduced  me  to 
INIrs.  Rebecca  Franks'  notice  ;  and,  as  my 
education  had  ixen  superior  to  the  gene- 
rality of  servants,  she  was  pleased  with  the 
id(^a  that  1  could  read  to  her,  and  work  fine 
linen.  For  six  nmnrhs  1  was  as  happy  as 
leavins:  my  parents  and  mv  lady's  temper 
permitted  me  to  be.  Mr.  Franks,  who  gen- 
erally spent  sosne  m<»nths  in  the  year  with 
his  aunt,  often  spoke  to  me,   (as   1  then 


44  THE  fATAL  CABINET. 

thought,)  very  condescendingly  ;  but  al- 
ways more  so  li  ever  by  chance  he  met  with 
me  aione.  He  soon  attempted  to  grow  more 
faniiiiar.  1  repulsed  him  at  first  as  much 
as  possible  ;  but  he  talked  so  kindly,  and 
insisted  upon  my  receiving  some  very  pret- 
ty presents,  that  I  believe  i  did  not  then 
avoid  him  as  much  as  i  ought  to  have  done; 
and  when  he  solemnly  swore  he  could  not 
live  without  me,  i  began  to  think  any  sit- 
uation was  preferable  to  servitude  and  de- 
pendance-r-ibr  my  mistress  was,  at  times, 
very  severe,  and  alwoys  capricious. — Oh 
what  promises  he  made  !  that  if  I  were  pru- 
dent and  secret,  the  time  might  come  when 
he  would  marry  me  !  He  had  made  me  con- 
fess my  regard  for  him- — and  then  took  ad- 
vantage of  my  weakness.  He  made  me, 
madam,  the  most  miserable  of  human  be- 
ings !  He  had  promised  a  sum  of  money  ; 
but  1  declare  he  has  not  given  me  a  six- 
pence since  he  has  been  my  ruin — but  al- 
ways threatened  me  with  desertion  and 
poverty,  if  I  dared  to  breathe  to  his  aunt  a 
syllable  of  our  intercourse.  She  soon  re- 
gaided  me  with  a  suspicious  eye,  and  has 
of  late  questioned  me  v'ery  severely.  I  have 
denied  all  her  accusations,  and  even  an- 
swered her  with  pertness  and  resentment : 
an'!  she  always  denoutjcrd  vengeance  and 
punishment  for  the   crime  she  thought  I 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  ^  <5 

had  been  guilty  ot^ — saying,  1  should  coon 
be  in  the  streets  a  wretched  wanderer,  and 
die  in  a  hovel,  diseased  and  miserable.  In 
vain  I  represented  to  Mr.  Franks  my  un- 
happy situation,  and  his  aunt's  accusations. 
With  tremendous  oaths  he  again  threaten- 
ed my  destruction,  if  I  exposed  his  con- 
duct: and,  without  money,  without  i'riends, 
where  could  1  turn  for  reliel  ?  In  the  ago- 
nies of  despair,  how  shall  I  repeat  it?  I 
have  endeavoured,  by  medicine,  to  remove 
the  misery  of  my  situation  ;  and  I  deter- 
mined, if  not  successfid  in  the  attempt 
wlien  the  period  arrived  which  would  con- 
firm my  shame,  to  destroy  the  fatal  evidence.c 
of  unequivocal  guilt.  Start  not,  madam, 
with  horror  at  such  a  resolution  !  Who 
would  receive  "pe  into  their  house?  who 
would  take  care  of  my  child?  where  could 
I  procure  an  honest  livelihood  ?  how  could 
I  persuade  such  unfeeling  people  as  my 
mistress  and  Mr.  Franks  that. my  penitence 
was  sin(*oie  ?  My  father  would  turn  me 
from  his  door,  and  I  should  be  pointed  at 
as  an  undone  and  l(»st  creature,  by  those 
who  were  good  and  virtuous.  If  I  defied 
it  all,  and  endeavoured  to  rike  care  of  my 
child,  how  coidd  I  support  myself  by  in- 
dustry ? All   this,   indeed,   I' told   Mr, 

Franks  before  I  heard  his  conversation  with 
Sir  George  Sinclair.     Oh  madam  !  do  not 

VOL.    U.  O 


4G  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

betra}^  me  to  my  mistress,  or  my  friends  ; 
but  save  me,  if  possible,  from  shame  and 
misery." 

"  I  have  listened  most  attentively  to  your 
story;  nor  will  I  doubt  your  veracity  :  this 
is  not  a  time  to  reprobate  your  conduct 
with  severity;  but  as  you  value  your  eter- 
nal happiness,  dare  not  to  encourage  the 
Avickcd  ideas  which  you  have  just  confess- 
ed ;  remember  that  you  can  only  expiate 
past  offences  by  the  strictest  adherence  to 
virtue  for  the  future  !  How  could  you  ever 
think  of  sacrificing  the  life  of  an  innocent 
being — and  this  being  your  own  child  ! 
Surely,  if  you  had  once  felt  the  warm  pres- 
sure of  its  little  form,  nature  would  have 
revolted  at  the  crime!  Besides,  depend  up- 
on it  that  the  Almighty  will,  sooner  or  la- 
ter^ bring  the  murderer  to  justice  ;  and 
what  then  think  you  of  the  shame  annexed 
to  such  an  exposition  V 

"  Oh   m.adam !  do   not pray  do  not 

speak  thus but  will  vou  now  stand  my 

friend  ?'^ 

Subdued  by  her  agitation,  she  fell  on  her 
knees  to  Emily,  and,  in  the  attitude  of  sup- 
plication, remained  a  few  moments,  inca- 
pable of  articulating  a  word.  At  length, 
somewhat  relieved  by  a  violent  flood  of 
tears,  she  said  : — 

'«  Point  out  the  method  to  save  me  from 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  47 

destruction  :   my   gratitude  shall  end  Ijut 
with  my  life/^ 

Emily  soothed  her  in  the  gentlest  man- 
ner— the  girl  almost  worshipping  her  as  an 
angel,  and  promising  to  be  solely  guided  by 
her  advice, 

Mrs.  ritsmorton,  most  opportunely  now 
calling  to  see  Emily,  and  the  children,  was 
confidentially  entrusted  with  the  poor  girl's 
story,  and  in  the  urbanity  and  goodness  of 
her  heart,  s!ie  ofi'ered  to  lake. the  young- 
woman  home  with  her,  to  make  every  pro- 
per inquiry  of  Mrs.  Rebecca  Franks:  anct" 
advise  that  lady  to  part  quietly  with  the 
girl,  for  many  and  obvious  reasons  ;  not 
doubting  that  as  suspicions  had  been  ad- 
mitted, she  would  rejoice  at  her  departure, 
Catherine  AYalker,  (which  was  the  3'oung 
woman's  name,)  accompanied  Mrs.  Eits- 
morton  home  ;  and  Emily  pondered  some 
time  on  tjie  scene  which  had  passed,  and  on 
the  hypocritical  conduct  of  a  man  she  had 
regarded  as  Edward's  friend  and  her  own. 
She  felt  satisfied  that  Catherine  was  now  in 
good  hands  ;  that  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  would 
inquire,  with  perseverance,  into  the  truth 
of  thestor}^  and  that  if  no  levity  of  conduct 
appeared  from  the  investigation,  she  would 
gladly  assist  in  some  plan  to  relieve  her 
necessities. 

The  hour  of  dinner  arrived,  but  Fits- 


v*  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

morton  still  was  absent.  (3}i  !  bad  return- 
ing love  been  admitted  into  bis  besom  ! 
would  he  not  have  awaited  with  anxious 
imjoatience  lor  the  hour  of  meeting  ?  She 
longed  to  teil  him  oi  her  good  luck  in  the 
lottery,  hoping  it  might  prove  to  him  a 
pleasant  and  convenient  circumstance. 
Worn  out  with  fruitless  regrets,  and  vain 
anticipations,  she  despairingly  thouoht  that 
death  only  could  relieve  her  from  the  mise- 
ry she  endured  ;  but  at  this  instan^t  her  lit- 
tle boy  being  broug'it  into  the  room,  as 
she  pressed  the  smiling  cherub  to  her  heart, 
she  felt  that  life  had  not  yet  lost  its  inter- 
est, and  that  she  could  bear  with  patience 
its  various  and  afrlictive  changes.  Every 
passing  hour  encreased  her  trembling  ex- 
oectations.  Towards  the  eveninsf  she  be- 
gan  to  fear  that  Fitsmorton  would  not  be 
in  a  state  to  meet  her  as  she  wished  ;  and 
great  was  her  alarm,  when  the  servant  in- 
formed her,  that  a  gentleman  would  not 
be  denied  admittance;  saying  he  had  a 
message  to  deliver  from  Mr.  Fitsmorton. 

She  had  not  time  for  deliberaiion,  he  en- 
tered the  room  ;  and  now  a  thousand  shock- 
ing thoughts  blanched  her  cheek  with  fear, 
and  her  whole  frame  shook  with  trepida- 
tion. VV^hat  language  can  express  her  emo- 
tions when  Mr.  Franks  advanced  towards 
licr !  was  he  to  be  the  messenger  of  mise- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  49 

ry  ?  was  he  to  witness  the  incoherence  of 
sorrow,  and  ascertain  some  unexpected 
atniction  ;  lor  Fitsmorton  was  associated 
with  every  idea  ;  and  the  sad  effects  of  iin- 
governed  rashness  in  her  husband^s  con- 
duct, had  of  late  been  too  frequently  anti- 
cipated. Endeavouring  to  conceal  her  feel- 
ings, she  recoiled  with  indignation  from 
Mr.  Franks'  offered  hand,  and  the  laconic 
interrogatory  of  "well,  sir,"  only  escaped 
her  lips. 

"  Pardon,  dear  madam,  the  innocent  ar- 
tifice I  have  presumed  to  practice,  to  gain 
admittance  to  \^our  presence." 

She  interrupted  him,  "  you  come  not 
then,  sir,  from  Mr.  Fitsmorton." 

*•'  1  have  certainly  just  parted  with  him, 
(he  suppressed  a  sigh  of  well-affected  des- 
pondency,) but  he  knows  not  of  my  event- 
ful visit." 

"  Is  he  well,  sir?  or  has  any  accident, 
any " 

"  There  is  no  cause,  dearest  madam,  for 
this  lovely,  this  enviable  agitation.  I  left 
him  well  in  health,  but but " 

"  But  what,  sir!  be  quick  if  you  have 
any  thing  to  communicate  which  is  neces- 
sary for  me  to  hear." 

"  1    have    that   to  communicate    which 
must  ever  add  to  the  poignant  regrets  of  an 
affectionate  wife.     When  a  mansacrifices 
5  * 


•,0  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Jiis  time  and  fortune  to  the  infatuating' 
propensity  of  gaming  ;  when  he  neglects  the 
most  amiable  and  lovely  of  women  for — " 

"  Hold,  sir !  from  you  this  discourse  is 
intrusive,  ungenerous,  and  do  you  not  pro- 
fess yourselt  the  friend  of  Mr.  Fitsmorlon? 
but  to  steal  on  my  hour  of  privacy,  and 
discover  to  me  his  tailings,  is  no  great  proof 
of  the  sincerity  of  your  boasted  friendship  ! 
Leave  me,  sir,  nor  dare  again  to*vound  my 
ear  by  a  repetition  of  what  real  delicacy 
would  ever  have  concealed." 

With  well-feigned  humility  he  solicited 
her  forgiveness  ;  that  he  might  have  erred, 
from  feeling  too  severely  his  friend's  dere- 
liction from  prudence,  but  that  he  could 
not  exist  under  her  displeasure  ;  and  whilst 
the  deceptive  tear  glistened  in  his  eye,  he 
feared  that  too  soon  such  unrivalled  excel- 
lence must  know  the  fatal  truth.  He  de- 
clared upon  his  honour  that  he  came  not 
to  add  to  her  distress,  but  to  warn  he  r  of 
the  intentions  oi  a  man  he  once  called  his 
friend. 

Emily  now  fancying  she  could  trace  the 
grand  cause  of  his  visit,  owing  to  Cathe- 
rine Walker's  communications,  involuntari- 
ly smiled  with  contempt;  and  wishing  to 
convince  Mr.  Franks  that  the  cruelty  of  his 
conduct  was  discovered,  she  said,  with 
tolerable  composure,  *'  proceed,  sir." 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  SI 

"  He  then  coniiessed  that  the  reason  he 
had  iniriided  himseit  so  unexpectedly,  was 
to  warn  her  of  the  tbily  of  a  madman  ;  that 
he  trembled  to  think  what  the  rashness  of 
a  man  in  Sir  George  Sinclair's  situation 
migiit  induce  liim  to  attempt. 

"  W  lien%  (he  continued,)  may  that  ten- 
denry  to  insanity  lead  him,  to  which  he 
has  been  subject,  since  the  dreadful  acci- 
deni  tie  met  with  ?  He  swears  he  will  yet 
have  yuu  in  his  power  ;  that  it  is  your  beau- 
ty that  enslaves  his  senses.  And  but  for 
my  persuasions,  he  would  ere  this  have 
comnitted  some  outrage  to  secure  so  envi- 
able a  prize." 

"  Your  st(^ry  is  so  perfectly  ridiculous, 
that  I  begin  to  think  you  must  have  met 
-with  a  similar  accident  to  that  of  Sir 
G  eorge  Sinclair's." 

"  By  heavens  !  madam,  your  contempt 
is  past  endurance!  Forgive  my  vehemen«'e, 
on  my  knees  i  entreat  your  pardon,  <^ 
how  gladly  would  I  prove  myself  your 
guardian  and  your  friend  ;  had  1  early  met 
wiih  so  lovely,  so  amiable  a  beinu,  how 
blessed  had  been  my  fate  !  How  often  in 
secret  have  1  lamented  the  insensibility  of 
the  most  envied  of  men." 

*'  Rise,  sir,  n()r  dare  profane  my  ears 
with  such  speciou*?,  such  hypocritical  lan- 
guage.    Our  conference  is  nearly  now,  and 


52  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

for  ever,  at  an  end.     1  have  only  one  sim- 
ple question  to  ask  you." 

"  A  thousand  from  your  h'ps,  it  would 
be  my  pride  and  my  pleasure  to  answer  ; 
nay,  my  whole  life  devoted  to  the  service 
of  Mrs.  Fitsmorton,  could  but  ill  convince 
her  of  my  unalterable  devotion  !  of  my  ad- 
miration of  her  virtues ;  and  of  my  heart- 
felt sensibility  of  her  unmerited  wrongs  !" 

"  Your  very  moral  and  disinterested 
conduct  affords  me  little  doubt  but  that 
your  boasted  sensibility  will  experience  a 
very  severe  trial,  when  I  ask  you  if  Cathe- 
rine Walker  is  not  an  intimate  acquaintance 
of  yours  ?"  Emily  then  pulling  the  bell  in 
haste,  only  added  : 

"  1  am  well  acquainted  with  the  very 
honourable  part  you  have  acted,  and  my 
best  advice  is,  that  you  attend  to  Mrs. 
Fitsmorton's  proposals  of  pecuniary  relief 
for  the  object  of  your  cruel  deception  ;  or 
less  lenient  measures  may  be  resorted  tct." 

The  servant  now  answering  the  bell, 
Emily  desired  him  to  open  the  door  for  Mr. 
Franks.  And  shocked  at  the  contrariety 
oi  passions  his  countenance  expressed,  she 
rushed  through  the  folding  doors  into  the 
adjoining  drawing-room,  and  felt  a  compar- 
ative relief  when  she  was  assured  that  he 
had  left  the  house. 

Emily  endeavoured  not  to  give  full  ere- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  5s 

idit  to  what  Mr.  Franks  had  so  confidently 
^asserted,  yet  duubt,  tear,  and  anxiety,  a^i- 
|tated  her  bosom.  He  had  hinted,  in  the 
course  of  their  conference,  thai  Sir  George 
•Sinclair  was  the  i»uthor  of  the  anonymous 
letter  she  had  received;  but  she  knew  not 
that  Franks  was  his  artful  instigator  ;  she 
knew  not  that  he  was  the  vile  abettor  of  all 
her  husband's  follies,  and  had  endeavoured 
[to  infuse  every  poisonous  suspicion  of  her 
conduct  into  his  alienated  mind.  Of  Sir 
iGeorge  Sinclair's  shallow  plots,  and  half- 
|formed  machinations,  she  had  little  fear; 
and  her  eyes  open  to  the  deceptive  charac- 
(terof  Mr.  Franks,  she  seemed  even  to  doubt 
ttheir  possibility.  E'lward,  her  beloved  Ed- 
^ward,  seeking  the  road  to  desti  iK'iion — the 
(diamonds  lavished  on  some  artrul  liUvvor- 
Ithy  being",  and  the  ruin  with  which  she  and 
iher  children  was  threatened,  were  subjects 
iwhich  agonised  her  mind  with  emotions 
Ibeyond  the  power  of  reason  to  controul. 

Evenins:  approached,  and  nothini?  inter- 
irupted   her  sad   refl  ctions  but  the  servant 
[Ibringing  into  the  room  some  letters  for  his 
lima^ter  :  she  had  just  involuntarily  exclaim- 
ted,  "  surely  he  cannot  have  read  my  letter!" 
when  the  object  of  her  solicitude  knocked 
at  the  door.     A  transient  view  of  his  coun- 
tenance chilled  her  heart  with  horror;  pale, 
haggard,  his  eyes  appearing  fixed  on  vacan- 


54  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

cy,  and  his  whole  frame  seemed  to  have 
suffered  from  recent  and  ungoverned  agita- 
tion. 

"  My  dear  Edward  !'^  was  all  she  could 
at  first  articulate  ;  then  endeavouring  to 
subdue  her  feelings,  she  said,  "  welcome 
home  once  more  !  you  know  not  with  what 
impatience  I  have  expected  you  !" 

Home  !  (he  emphatically  repeated)  have 
J  a  home  yet  remaining  ?'' 

"  Yes,  my  love,  and  a  heart  which  longs 
to  repose  again  in  confidence  on  your  bo- 
som ;  gaze  not  so  wildly  at  me,  it  is  your 
own  Emily  who  speaks  to  you  ;  my  letter 
must  have  convinced  you  how  I  have  long- 
ed for  this  moment  of  meeting/^ 

"  My  Emily  !  this  is  indeed  a  bitter  mo- 
ment i" 

"  Something  oppresses  you,  dear  Ed- 
ward. 1  am  prepared  for  every  evil  but 
the  total  loss  of  your  affection  and  confi- 
dence," 

He  clasped  his  hands  in  agony,  then  re- 
garding her  a  moment  in  silence,  he  tlung 
his  arms  around  her,  and-  wept  upon  her 
bosom.  It  was  a  feeling  so  av/ful,  so  im- 
pressive, that  a  few  moments  elapsed  before 
either  could  break  the  solemn  silence  ;  at 
length  Emily  said — 

"  The  torture  of  suspense,  is  not  to  be 
borne ;  my  dear,  dear  husband,  confide 
wholly  in  me." 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  53 

"  Oh  Emily,  had  we  met  this  morning. 
[[Cursed  iiitatuatioii  !"  Then,  as  it"  recollect- 
ing Mr.  Franks'  insinuations,  he  continued, 
"  But  you,  madam,  no  doubt  have  been 
well  amused  daring  my  absence." 

Emily  could  little  surmise  to  what  he 
lalluded.  She  began  to  tear  his  senses  were 
aifected,  and  burst  into  tears. 

Fitsmorton  traversed  the  room  in  breath- 
less agitation  ;  then  gazing  stedfastiy  on 
lEmily,  he  said — 

I  "  When  a  woman,  in  the  absence  of  her 
ihusband,  can  entertain,  and  be  entertained, 
'what  credit  is  to  be  given^  to  the.  joy  she 
< expresses  at  his  return  ?" 

"  I  am  totally  ignorant  to  what  you  al- 
ii lude  ;  if  to  have  suffered  all  that  mental 
wretchedness  can  inflict,  is  to  be  enterlain- 
'':  ed,  then  indeed  you  are  right  in  your  con- 
jectures : — for  heaven's  sake  be  explicit." 

"  Torture  !  madness  !  my  brain  is  burst- 
ing !  the  breath  of  innocence,  the  bosom  of 
chastity,  might  have  soothed  the  agonies  I 

endure,  but " 

"  This,  Edward,  is  not  a  time  to  feel  re- 
sentment at  your  unjust  insinuations;  you 
surely  cannot,  dare  not,  suspect  me  of  any 
unvi'orthy  conduct.  Your  mind  is  hurt 
and  irritated  ;  and  I  can  solicit  yon,  with 
innocence  and  truth,  to  repose  in  my  bosom 
your  every  care." 


56  THE  FATAL  CABINET.  I 

In   hurried  accents  he   asked  her,  who! 
had  dared  lo  sleep  at  the  house  during  his 
absence  ?  who  was  the  happy  man  so  high- 
ly favoured  ? 

"  Edward,  (she  repHed.)  did  I  not  seei 
that  disappointtnent  nr*?sses  hard  upon 
your  mind,  1  shoijld  answer  with  the  con-J 
tempt  your  question  merits.  Our  mutual 
fnend.  Dr.  Leicester,  was  one  night  my 
welcome  guest." 

"  Dr.  Leicester  !  (he  exclaimed,)  my 
own  creduHly  has  doubtless  deceived  me.^^ 
He  then  told  her  ot  his  meeting  with 
Franks,  who  had  mentioned,  in  mere  badi- 
nage^ what  he  had,  in  the  dishacted  state 
of  his  mind,  taken  up  too  seriously,  and  af- 
ter reprobating  his  own  unjust  suspicions, 
he  roniinued — 

"  My  dearest  Emily,  if  auy  thing  can  al- 
leviate rny  wrttctied  situation,  it  is  the  idea 
that  you  still  love  me,  that  you  pardon  all 
my  uukindness  and  folly." 

."  Oil,  let  us  uow  and  for  ever  have  done 
with  such  a  subject."  (A  momentary  sus- 
picion crossed  her  mind,  that  Franks  was 
not  guilty  of  s(mie  de'>;ign  in  his  apparent  | 
badinas^e.)  "  Dtar  Edward,  appreciate  the  \ 
love  1  bear  you.  Whatever  be  your  future 
fate,  remember  it  is  mine  also."  Fitsmor- 
ton  claspe<l  her  to  his  heart.  Emily  declar- 
ed she  could  not  exist  under  the  pressure 
of  such  accumulating  anxiety. 


THE  FATAL  CAUINET.  57 

"  If,  Emily,  (he  replied,)  the  anxiety  is 
so  oppressive,  what  will  prove  the  reality 
of  misery  ?  How  will  you  bear  up  your  agi- 
tated mind,  when  1  tell  you,  that  1  am  ru- 
ined beyond  redemption,  in  every  sense  of 
the  word  :  that  1  am  disgraced,  utterly  dis- 
graced for  ever  !" 

Emily  faintly  said,  "  disgraced  !  impos- 
sible." 

"  By  heaven , 'tis    true!    our   boy    may 
curse  the  existence  of  his  father!  my  mo- 
ther! even  her  gentle  nature  will  remem- 
Iber  this  day  with   horror;  and  as  to  thee, 
*oh  Emily!  how  wilt  thou  endure  trials  so 
;  severe  ?" 

"  Some  dreadful    mystery    hangs   about 
■your  words  ;   if,   my  dear  Edward,  1  may 
I  unravel  it,  1  guess  that  a  fatal  infatuation 
j  lias  made  us  bes^oars/* 
1     He  groaned. 

She  continued.     "  And  is  this  the  migh- 
ty evil  I  am  taught  to  fear  ?  My  love,  I 
Bread  not  poverty,  if  blessed  with  your  re- 
r.urning  confidence  ;  I  speak  not  the  enthu- 
siastic language  of  romance,  but  most  wil- 
lingly could  I  give  up  every  indulgence  and 
uxury,  most  willingly  bend  to  any  reverse 
)f  fortune,  if  not  neglected  by  a  husband — 
•.ver  the  object  of  my  tenderest  love  !  Oh 
:ould  I  be  assured  that  1  have  not  been 

leglected  for  the  sake  of " 

VOL.  n.  6 


58  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

The  words  died  upon  her  lips. 

Fitsmorton  looked  up  to  heaven,  in  wild 
despair,  saying  : 

"  Surely,  surely,  thou  art  an  angel !  Emi- 
ly, I  swear  by  the  God  who  made  me,  that 
your  suspicions  are  groundless  ;  how  you 
became  acquainted  with  the  destination  of 
the  diamonds  remains  yet  to  be  explained  ; 
as  must  also,  at  a  future  time,  my  folly,  in 
being  guilty  of  such  extravagance  ;  at  pre- 
sent rest  assured  that  it  proceeded  from  a 
disgraceful  wager,  made  in  an  hour  of  in- 
toxication ;  and  that  the  woman  who  re- 
ceived the  diamonds  was  the  exclusive 
clwre  amie  of  another." 

"  How  light  appears  the  loss  of  fortune 
to  the  loss  of  your  affection  !  You  may 
have  been  imprudent,  but  could  1  persuade 
you  to  leave  London  for  one  twelvemonth, 
all  may  yet  be  well." 

He  wildly  said,  "  alas  !  whither  can  we 
go?" 

"  To  Fitsmorton  Park,  or  any  where 
that  you  shall  best  prefer." 

Emily  had  touched  the  vibrating  chord 
which  agonized  his  every  feeling.  His 
countenance  became  ghastly,  and  in  falter- 
ing accents  he  replied  : — 

"  In  a  very  short  time  Fitsmorton  Park 
owns  another  master  ;  my  mother's  fortune 
is  involved. — Oh  Emily,  leave  me  to  my 
fate !" 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  59 

"  Leave  you  !  oh  never."  Then  joyfully 
taking  from  a  pocket-book  the  five  thou- 
sand pounds  which  she  had  received  of 
Dr.  Leicester,  she  put  them  into  her  hus- 
band's hands  ;  he  grasped  them  in  silent 
amazement;  and  when  she  explained  by 
what  means  she  became  possessed  of  them, 
he  could  only  say  : 

"  Eternal  Providence,  for  this  I  thank 
thee  r 

"  Yes,  Edward,  (she  returned,)  we  will 
receive  it  as  the  gift  of  heaven  ;  this  money 
will  fully  reimburse  that  part  of  your  mo- 
ther's property  which  rested  in  your  hands  ; 
all  other  losses  are  comparatively  light. 
Had  you  never  been  in  possession  of  Eits- 
morton  Park,  my  heart  had  still  been  yours. 
Dear  Edward,  all  will  yet  be  well." 

"Yes,  when  the  upbraiditigs  of  a  guilty 
conscience  can  be  silenced;  when  your  in- 
juries and  our  infant's  Wrongs  can  be  com- 
pensated." 

*'  Abjure  your  errors,  the  mercy  of  hea- 
ven is  unlimited.  Our  child  cannot  feel 
the  deprivation  of  luxuries  he  never  pos- 
sessed ;  and  as  to  myself,  a  cottage,  or  even 
a  prison,  were  preferable  to  the  splendid 
misery  I  have  lately  endured.  But  we 
have  many  friends.  And  again  I  say,  all 
will  yet  be  well.'^ 

"  What  claims  have  folly  and  vice  on  the 


Go  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

bounty  of  friends  ? Live  on  abject  char- 
ity ? Oh  never  \" 

He  then  again  relapsed  into  frantic  vio- 
lence ;  he  pressed  her  hands  on  his  burning 
forehead,  whilst  she,  vi'ith  every  endear- 
ment that  sympathy  and  affection  could 
(jevise,  sougli-t  to  cool  the  fever  of  his  brain  : 
and  soon  she  drew  from  him  a  full  confes- 
sion of  the  infatuation  which  had  proved 
his  ruin.  He  told  her  that  Franks  had  of- 
ten endeavoured  to  save  him  from  destruc- 
tion :  that  a  prison,- in  all  probability,  would 
now  be  his  future  fate  ;  that  the  time  might 
come,  when  she  would  be  acquainted  with 
the  primary  cause  of  his  estrangement  from 
domestic  happiness;  and  again  solemnly 
affirmed  that  his  neglect  of  her  had  not 
arisen  from  any  disgraceful  attachment. 

The  sweetest  tears  that  Emily  ever  shed, 
fell  from  her  eyes  ;  and,  in  her  turn,  she 
recapitulated  all  that  she  had  privately  suf- 
fered, and  produced  the  anonymous  letter 
she  had  received. 

Fitsmorton  execrated  th6  writer,  and 
imagined  that  the  letter  sent  to  him  was 
from  the  same  quarter.  Emily  wished  to 
change  the  subject.  In  the  irritable  state 
of  Fitsmorton's  mind,  she  dared  not  men- 
tion Sir  George  Sinclair  or  Mr.  Franks  as 
their  author.  She  therefore  endeavoiired 
to  palliate  all  the  evils  with  which  they 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  61 

were  surrounded,  and,  by  her  own  forti- 
tude, to  support  her  husband's  distracted 
mind. 

Whilst  he  bung  on  her  soothing  accents, 
and  felt  the  beaming  pity  of  her  eye,  he  en- 
deavoured to  restrain  the  emotions  at  his 
heart  :  but  too  soon  the  recollection  that 
he  was  ruined  beyond  redemption,  remind- 
ed him  of  the  villain,  who,  by  convincing 
him  of  his  former  credulity,  and  awakening 
unwarrantable  suspicions  that  happiness 
was  delusive,  had  unsettled  his  principles, 
and  vitiated  the  purity  of  his  taste  and  sen- 
timents. 

What  a  moment  was  this  to  receive  the 
news  of  Dorvi He's, arrival  in  England  !  The 
parcel  of  letters  caught  Fitsmorton's  atten- 
tion ;  he  opened  several,  and  read  them,  as 
if  mechanically  ;  when,  taking  up  one,  he 
1  recognized  the  hand-writing  of  Dorville. 

Emily  had  just  left  the  room,  and  was 
isaved  witnessing  the  dreadful  expression 
of  his  countenance.  The  letter  simply  in- 
formed him  that  Dorville  had  that  instant 
landed  at  Portsmouth  ;  that  he  was  well 
aware  intelligence  of  his  death  had  been 
iprematurely  circulated ;  mentioned  the 
morning  that  he  should  arrive  at  the  hotel 
in  Berkley-square,  where  he  entreated  Fits- 
morton  to  give  him  the  meeting,  that  he 

night  prepare  all  the  beloved  family  for  his- 
•       5  * 


62  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

apparent  resurrection  ;  and  that  lie  would 
soon  explain  its  mystery.  Violent  emotion, 
on  tlie  first  perusal,  agitated  the  trembling 
nerves  ot  Fitsmorton.  "  Yes,"  he  exclaim- 
ed ;  "I  w\\l  meet  thee,  Dorville  !  and  fa- 
tally shalt  thou  be  remembered  by  all  !" — 
He  concealed  the  letter  ere  Emily  returned, 
and  endeavoured  to  suppress  his  agonizing 
reflections.  He  told  her  that  one  of  the 
letters  demanded  his  attention  early  in  the 
morning;  that  he  must  instantly  write  an 
answer  ;  that  he  should  be  employed  at  his 
pen  for  an  hour  or  two  on  some  important 
business,  and,  with  the  most  distressing 
feelings,  but  with  assumed  serenity,  he  en- 
treated her  to  retire  to  rest,  and  that  he 
would  remain  in  her  dressing-room  until 
he  had  finished  writing. 

Dorville^s  letter  had  appointed  the  next 
morning,  at  an  early  hour,  for  his  being  in 
London.  Fitsmorton  therefore  immedi- 
ately sent  the  following  letter  to  the  hotel, 
to  await  his  arrival  : — 

'•  To  recriminate  is  useless — facts  are 
stubborn  things  :  your  deliberate  villainy 
has  proved  my  ruin.  Chance,  or  whatever 
we  are  pleased  to  call  it,  has  discovered  to 
me  the  deceptive  hypocrisy  of  a  man  I  once 
called  my  friend.  Your  own  conscience 
will  best  comprehend  my  meaning.  These 
hasty  lines  will  be  given  to  you  on  your 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  63 

arrival  at  the  hotel,  anfl  I  shall  be  waiting 
to  take  the  just  vengeance  which  ^oiir  con- 
duct merits." 

He  then  appointed  the  place  and  hour 
with  all  necessary  arrangements  ;  and,  aner 
having  promised  Emily  to  finish  his  writing 
as  quickly  as  possible,  she  could  not  resist 
his  earnest  entreaties  to  be  left  to  himself. 
Heroically  as  she  had  supported  her  spirits 
when  wishing;  to  give  comfort  to  her  lius- 
band,  she  now  yielded  to  every  depressive 
feeling;  and  some  time  elapsed  before  she 
could  gain  composure  enough  to  supplicate 
the  Disposer  of  all  events  for  resolution  and 
fortitude  in  this  hour  of  trial.  But  when 
she  reflected  that  her  suspicions  were 
groundless  of  Fitsmorton's  infidelity,  all 
other  misfortunes  appeared  comparatively 
light;  and  any  reverse  of  fortune  she  felt 
herself  equal  to  submit  to.  Amidst  her 
own  sorrows,  Mrs.  Grosvenor^s  fate  was 
ever  a  predominant  subject  ;  and  sad  were 
Emily's  presentiments  that  remorse  would 
convince  her  mother  of  the  fallacy  of  her 
present  pursuits. 

Whon  Fitsmorton  was  left  to  himself,  he 
struggled  to  gain  some  degree  of  compo- 
sure ;  but  the  variety  of  emotions  which 
assailed  him   were  for  some  time  uncon- 

troulable — he  had  panted  for  revenge. 

The  hour  was  near  at  hand,  and  he  hailed 


64  THE  FATAL  CABIN Et. 

it  with  ferocious  joy  ;  then  suddenly  start- 
ing with  horror  at  the  idea  of  erabrunio-  his 
hands  in  tiie  bloud  of  a  fellow-creature,  or 
of  appearing  himself  at  the  awful  tribunal 
of  Heaven  !  But  he  again  read  D<>rvil!e's 
letter,  gazed  on  the  fatal  miniature,  and 
feeling  that  his  future  lite  would  be  insup- 
portable, from  the  certain  approaches  of 
disgraceful  poverty,  he  considered  existence 
as  a  burden,  because  it  could  no  longer  be 
supported  with  respectability  and  honour  : 
he  therefore  immediately  determined  to 
write  to  Alfred  Granby — that,  whatever 
proved  the  result  of  the  duel,  the  motives 
of  his  conduct  might  be  elucidated. 

The  report  of  Dorville^s  death  had  origi- 
nated from  a  man  of  the  same  name  having 
died  in  India,  and  concurring  circumstan- 
ces fatally  prevented  all  usual  intercourse 
for  two  or  three  years  with  his  friends  in 
England.  At  one  time,  a  packet  of  letters 
had  been  entrusted  to  a  private  hand,  and 
never  delivered  ;  and  he  himself  having  been 
unexpectedly  sent  far  up  the  country,  the 
unfounded  report  of  his  death  was  not  con- 
tradicted. '^ 

FUsmorton's  Letter  to  Alfred  Granhy. 

"  Short  is  the  time  allotted  to  explain  to 
you  my  motives  for  the  rash  step  I  am 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  63 

about  to  take.     In  a  word,  Granby,  I  am 
a  ruined  niaii ! — ruined  in  fortune — in  re- 
putation— and  in  all  that  can  make  life  es- 
timable !  1  believe  I  have  been  wrong,  but 
nothing  can  recall  the  past  ;  and  1  am  im- 
pelled, by  an  irresistible  impulse,  to  follow 
Uhe  dictates  of  a  well-grounded  resentment. 
1      "  You  remember  me,  Granby,  happy  in 
jmy  union   with  the  object  of  my  earliest 
Hove  ;  and  that  our  mutual  friend  Dorville 
iwas  .domesticated  with  generous  and  un- 
^bounded  confidence!  This  man,  under  the 
(disguise  of  friendship,  laughed  at  my  cre- 
idulity,  and  alienated  the  affections  of  my 
iwife! — of  a  being,   on    whose   virtue  and 
honour  I  would  have  staked  my  existence. 
•Some  little  time  ago,  I  found  a  letter  in  a 
[Cabinet  which  had  belonged  to  her,  confes- 
ising  his  attachment,  accompanied  by  a  mini- 
ature of  himself,   stamping  conviction  on 
this  dreadful  fact ;  that  I  had  lived  the  dupe 
of  their  depravity  !  Conceive,  if  you  can, 
the  revolution  my  mind  experienced  !  Time 
>is  now  too  precious  to  describe  my  feel- 
lings.     Every    resentment    which    insulted 
honour  could  feel,  I  felt !  and  I  vowed,  if 
3ver  fate  gave  me  the  power  of  revenge,  it 
should  be  fully  satiated.     I  will  not  excuse 
Dr  palliate  my  total,  nay,  almost  instanta- 
leous  neglect  of  domestic  duties  :  but  so 
It  was — the  smiles  of  Emily  appeared  only 


66  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

deceptive  snares  for  my  undoing  ;  and  the 
words  '  Siicii  once  was  Mary  Dalrymple  !' 
concluded  every  mental  warfare.  Her 
child,  who  had  been  my  solace  in  afflic- 
tion, my  joy  in  returning  peace,  became 
an  object  of  detestation,  and  every  vindic- 
tive passion  raged  with  redoubled  fury 
when  Emily  courted  my  notice  for  her  lit- 
tle tavourite. 

"  For  refuse  from  feelinc^s  which  con- 
sumed  me,  1  sought  their  oblivion  m  the 
midnight  revel ;  in  the  circle  of  inebriation. 
The  spirit  of  gaming  soon  overpowered  my 
reasoning  faculties,  and  the  occupation 
which  appeared  at  first  a  resource  from  the 
bitterness  of  reflection,  became  the  engen- 
dered habit  of  my  soul  ;  and  fortime,  repu- 
tation, and  peace,  are  now  the  fatal  sacri- 
fice !  With  hardened  illiberality,  I  suspect- 
ed Emily  of  deceit;  and  though  her  fair 
brow,  and  invariable  rectitude  of  conduct, 
baffled  suspicion,  and  set  distrust  at  defi- 
ance;  I  repulsed  her  every  endearing  wish 
for  returning  confidence,  and  left  her  to 
mourn  my  unkindness  iu  solitude.  Every 
little  accidental  occurrence  I  converted  in- 
to proofs,  strong  as  holy  writ.  And  I  even 
sometimes  doubted  the  delicacy  of  her  af- 
fection, because  she  ever  v/clcomed  me  with 
smiles,  nor  reproached  my  neglect  with 
harshness.     Granby  !  I  linger  on  the  sub- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  fij 

iject,  but  I  must  be  brief.  My  paternal  es- 
!tate  will  soon  be  in  the  possession  of  ano- 
ther ! 

"  My  senses  seem  to  hav^e  wandered.     I 
am  now  more  composted.     Dv)rville  is  just 
■  arrived   in   England.      You   remember  the 
(report  of  his  death  ;  it  was  unfounded.     By 
i heaven  !  Granby,  he  has  written  to  me,  ex- 
ipressing  his  joy  at  the  prospect  of  meeting- 
my  family  ;  and  he  must  expect  to  meet  the 
partner  of  his  guilt,  he  cannot  have  heard 
of  her  death.     Does  not  his  present  con- 
duct reach  the  farthest  mark  that  hypocri- 
sy ever  attempted  }  And  shall  1  permit  this 
man  to  enjoy  so  fatal  a  triumph  ?  To  con- 
sider me  as  the  convenient  dupe  of  his  un- 
parallelled  deceit  !   if  1  tall,  do  you  and  my 
sister  comfort  my  poor  distracted  mother  ! 
Palliate  the  follies  I   have  been  guilty  of; 
and  let  her  find  in  you  a  son.     Explain   to 
Emily  every   circumstance  ;   nothing  will 
then  add  to  her  affliction  !  I   have  slighted 
an    invaluable  jewel,  because  the  lustre  oF 
one  I  once  possessed  was  false  and  decep- 
tive! If  I  fall!  these  words  are  indeed  of 
solemn   import  :  but  is  not  the  grave  the 
surest    refuge    for   suffering    humanity  ? — 
Dreadful  reflections  will  intrude.     I  cannot 
silence  a  voice  which  seems  to  pronounce 
the  soul  immortal ! 

"  This  shall  be  forwarded  to  you  at  the 


Cs  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

hour  of  my  meeting  Dorville  ;  and  should 
his  pistol  prove  succesbiiii,  then  !  oh,  then  ! 
conceal  tVom  idle  curiosity  the  sad  story 
of  Mary  Dairy m pie  ;  let  not  her  family  now 
shed  ihe  Miter  tears  of  shame!  Emily  will 
ever  shield  and  protect  the  little  innocent 
object  I  have  neglected.  As  to  my  hoy, 
my  beggared  injured  boy  !  may  he  live  to 
prove  a  blessing  to  his  mother;  and  when 
her  bosom  can  no  longer  he  his  Oiily  sanc- 
tuary, be  you  to  him  a  father  ! 

"  My  sister  ?  you  w  hom  1  have  ever  lov- 
ed, farewell !  Be  grateful  for  your  happy 
lot,  safe  in  the  asylum  of  an  husband^s  pro- 
tecting arms  ;  you  are  far  removed  from  the 
vanities  and  ioilies  of  life  !  Granby,  I  en- 
close for  you  the  letter,  and  the  miniature. 

"  1  have  traversed  the  apartments  ir> 
gloomv  meditations:  I  have  been  stationed 
at  the  door  of  the  nursery  ;  1  caught  the 
sound  of  my  little  Edward's  voice,  as  if 
struggling  with  the  power  of  sleep. — 1  long- 
ed to  press  him  to  my  bosom  ;  but  1  could 
not  command  my  feelings;  the  agitation  I  . 
endured  iTiight  have  aroused  suspicion.  I 
breathed  a  fervant  prayer  to  heaven  for  his 
future  welfare. 

"  Emily  has  fallen  into  an  unquiet  sluiti- 
ber ;  tears  are  still  visible  on  her  cheeks. 
Had  I  gazed  much  longer,  I  should  have' 
wished  the  eventful  challenge  recalled.     I 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  69 

should  have  permitted  this  fell  destroyer 
of  innocence  to  escape  my  vengeance  :  for 
not  the  present  object  of  my  tender  affec- 
tions, giv^es  tairer  promise  of  perfection  than 
did  once  the  unfortunate  Mary  Dairympie. 
"  Granby,  farewell  !  What  a  still  and  so- 
lemn hour  !  thestrikingof  the  clock  vibrates 
like  my  departing  knell  !  It  seems  as  if — • 
'  through  the  still  globe's  awful  solitude, 

;  no  being:  wakes  but  me/ 

j       *'  Once  more  farewell ! 

"  Edward  Fitsmorton." 

Fitsmorton  took  every  proper  precaution 
to  secure  the  five  thousand  pounds,  to  re- 
i  imburse  his  mother's  property.  He  then 
I  endeavoured  to  hold  communion  with  his 
'Maker;  but  ever  vain  must  be  that  peni- 
ttence  which  leads  not  t3  a  renunciatif)n  of 
(error!  At  the  moment  of  supplication  to 
Iheaven,  he  was  reconciling  to  his  conscience 
:an  action  which,  however  the  sophism  of 
iman  may  allow,  must  receive  condemna- 
ition  at  the  awful  tribunal  of  God. 


VOL.  II.  7 


70  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

CHAP.  IV. 

When  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  left  Emily,  ac- 
companied  by  Catherine  Walker,  after  plac- 
ing her  under  the  protection  of  a  person 
she  could  confide  in — ever  active  in  the 
cause  of  benevolence,  she  sought  an  inter- 
view with  Mrs.  Rebecca  Franks,  whose 
violence  of  mariner,  and  unfeeling  invec- 
tives, bespoke  not  the  goodness  either  of 
her  head  or  heart  ;  but  throughout  thf  re- 
probation of  Catherine's  conduct,  Mrs. 
Fitsmorton  charitably  inferred,  that  the  poor 
girl's  dereliction  from  virtue  was  more  ow- 
ing to  the  arts  of  her  seducer  than  to  her 
own  depravity  of  heart.  Mrs.  Rebecca 
Franks  was  very  easily  persuaded  to  part 
peaceably  with  Catherine  Walker,  and  Virs. 
Fitsmorton  took  her  leave,  more  than  ever 
determined  to  save  this  victim  from  farther 
destruction. 

To  Mr.  Franks,  she  wrote,  as  follows  : 

"Sir, 

"  I  am  the  protectress  of  a  deceived  un- 
happy girl :  your  own  conscience  will  point 
out  in  what  manner  I  became  acquainted 
with  your  proceedings  ;  how  1  know  the 
dishonourable  part  you  have  acted,  by  that 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  71 

object  of  compassion,  Sir  George  Sinclair; 
and  also  liie  deception  of  your  conduct  to- 
wards my  son,  and  his  unsuspecting  wife. 
To  endeavour  to  worii  upon  your  feelings, 
were,  1  believe,  a  very  arduous  task  ;  but  of 
this  be  assured,  that  it  you  do  not  make  a 
proper  provision  for  an  ill-fated  object 
which  may  soon  see  light,  your  character 
and  nefarious  proceedings  shall  be  duly  ex- 
posed. 

"  There  is  still  virtue  enouoh  left  in  the 
world,  to  hold  your  conduct  m  detestation, 
on  Catherine  Walkev's  account;  but  what 
will  touch  you  more  nearly,  would  be  the 
exposure  of  your  unjust  proceedings,  in 
money  matters,  with  Sir  George  Sinclair  ; 
and  your  having  dared  tQ  trifle  with  the 
anjj-elic  purity  of  Emily  Fitsmorton.  A 
word  to  the  wise  is  sutficient  ;  and  that  you 
possess  worldly  wisdom,  there  can  be  little 
doubt.  Let  me,  however,  hint  to  you,  that 
you  have  probably  escaped  being  the  mur- 
derer of  her  whose  innocence  you  h^ve 
sacrificed  ;  together  with  the  unborn  evi- 
dence of  her  shame  :  for  lost,  as  the  poor 
girl  thought  she  was,  to  all  virtuous  socie- 
ty, brutally  repulsed  by  the  man  who  had 
bei rayed  her,  she  had  nearly  fled  from  ac- 
cumulating misery  to  the  silence  of  the 
grave. 

"  Lives  there  a  human  being  who  could 


72  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

have  felt  himself  the  cause  of  such  a  catas- 
trophe and  not  have  been  eternally  haunjed 
by  a  guilty  conscience,  if  he  could  still 
have  pursued  the  gay  careei'  of  vice,  and 
marked  out  objects  for  destruction,  the 
hour  of  retribution  would  yet  arrive,  and' 
the  approach  of  death  convince  him  that 
conscience  sleepeth  not  for  ever. 

"  Should  your  unhappy  child  see  light, 
secure  to  it  a  proper  provision.  The  mo- 
ther shall  never  condescend  to  ask  charity 
from  her  betrayer. 

"  M.  FlTSMORTON.^^ 

\7hen  Franks  received  this  letter,  he  was 
preparing  to  join  a  party  of  pleasure  ;  he 
threw  the  paper  into  the  fire,  and  endea- 
voured to  suppose  the  contents  were  only 
an  exaggeration  of  a  weak  old  woman's 
fears,  and  being  assured  that  Catherine 
Walker  was  in  good  hands,  not  likely  to 
call  upon  him  for  support,  he  dismissed  the 
subject  from  his  mind,  without  farther 
prosing  or  consideration. 

Fitsmorton  passed  the  remaining  hours 
which  were  to  elapse  before  the  eventful 
meeting,  as  most  men  do,  (notv/ithstanding 
the  boasted  heroism  of  philosophy,)  who 
are  about  to  take  their  chance  of  quilting 
this  state  of  existence,  or  of  being  guilty  of 
the  death  of  a  fellow-creature.     The  fever- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  7^ 

isli  State  of  his  mind  little  abated  by  the 
wretched  scenes  fancy  had  pourtrayed,  in 
delusive  and  appalling  dreams ;  and  he  arose 
with  the  break  of  day,  and  in  the  calmness 
of  a  despairing  mind,  finished  some  prepar- 
atory and  necessary  arrangements.  Em)ly, 
in^  wakefid  solicitude,  urged  his  speedy  re- 
turn, and  fearful  of  arousing  suspicion  in 
her  mind,  he  tore  himself  away  in  haste, 
and  with  unmeaning  plausibility  promised 
every  thing  she  wished. 

When  Dorville  received  Fitsmorton^s 
letter,  the  svords,  "  our  secret  then  is  dis- 
covered," fell  from  his  lips  :  he  read  it  again, 
and  his  astonishment  at  the  severity  it  ex- 
pressed, redoubled.  When  Dorville  left 
England,  Fitsmorton  had  lent  him  a  con- 
siderable sum  of  money  :  circumstances  had 
certainly  prevented  a  prompt,  or  punctual 
payment ;  but  now  returned  as  he  was,  high 
in  military  reputation,  with  a  large  and  in- 
dependent fortune,  by  the  unexpected  death 
of  an  uncle,  from  whose  interest  he  had 
been  induced  to  go  to  India,  now  that  he 
had  it  in  his  power  to  account  for  former 
remissness,  and  to  repay  his  friend  with 
hearl-felt  gratitude.  How  repulsive  to  his 
feelings  was  the  hostile  tenor  of  Fitsmor- 
ton's  letter !  But  deliberation  was  of  little 
avail,  he  would  meet  him  and  endeavour 
to  conciliate  all  matiers. 
7* 


74  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Overpowered  with  the  tenderest  emo- 
tions, D.orville  approached  the  appointed 
place,  and  in  tremulous  agitation,  he  ex- 
claimed, when  he  saw  his  friend,  "  and  is 
it  thus  we  meet,  Fitsmorton  ?" 

Fitsmorton,  who  construed  his  faltering- 
accents  and  trepidation  of  manner  into  con- 
scious guilt,  replied,  "  Dorville,  1  refer  you 
to  the  contents  of  my  letter,  1  can  only  re- 
peat, that  recrimination  is  useless/' 

"  Will  you  not  hear  my  justification  ?" 

"  Justification  !  deliberate  hypocrite  ! 
confession  would  better  suit  thy  present 
state;  but  this  is  no  time  for  parlying,  eve- 
ry thing  is  arranged.  The  exigency  of  our 
case  must  wave  the  ceremony  of  being  at- 
tended by  seconds/' 

*'  Fitsmorton,  I  cannot  fight  you  ;  an- 
swer me  some  important  questions." 

"  I  cannot  hold  converse  with  the  man 
from  whom  1  have  received  such  unmerit- 
ed injuries." 

"  One  moment  more  for  deliberation." 

"  Cowards  only  can  deliberate." 

"  Have  a  care,  Fitsmorton  ;  and  do  I  live 
to  hear  this  from  you  ?" 

"  Mean  pitiful  coward  !  for  he  who  could 
steal  the  affections  of  a  virtuous  woman, 
and  plunge  her  into  misery  is  unworthy  the 
name  of  man.  You  now  understand  me, 
Dorville." 


1  THE  FATAL  CABINET.  75 

i     *'^  On  my  soul,  I  do  not ;  I  cannot  raise 
imy  arm  against  the " 

Fitsiiuorton  interrupted  him,  "  no  eva- 
sion, sir !  Your  character  disgraces  hu- 
manity." 

*'  On  the  honour  of  a  soldier,  you  are 
wronsT,  Fitsmorton." 

"  Hypocrite  !" 

"  By  heaven  !  this  is  beyond  endurance/' 

Fitsmorton,   hurried   by  impetuosity  of 
spirit,  continued  the  language  of  defiance, 
jivvithout  expressing  in   plainer  terms   the 
cause  of  his  resentment,  and  again  urging 
IDorville   beyond   forbearance,    the    latter 
"eould  not  brook  such  repeated  insults,  and 
they  fired. — They   both   fell.     Fitsmorton 
'fainted  from  a  violent  effusion  of  blood. — 
'Dorville  thought  he  was  gone  for  ever  ! 
The  surgeon   and  his  assistant  soon  afford- 
ed relief. — Dorville  had  the  power  to  say, 
•'  oh  Fitsmorton,  why  didst  thou  tempt  thy 
fate  ?"  then   perceiving  in   him  a  gleam  of 
returning  life,  he  added,  "•  whilst  recollec- 
tion is  left  me,  let  us  exchange  forgiveness ; 
f  I  die,  tell  your  dear  si"ster,  tell  my  belov- 
ed Mary — "     He  could  explain  no  farther, 
md  Fitsmorton,  though   unable  to  answer 
With  coherence,   felt   a  conviction  of  the 
;ruth  flash  upon  his  bewildered  senses;  he 
groaned,  and  faintly  ejaculated,  "  my  sis- 
.ler  r 


%%  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Here  the  surgeon  interfered  ;  Dorville 
was  taken  care  of,  and  Fits  morion  in  a 
senseless  state  conveyed  to  liis  own  iiouse. 

Etnily  had  arisen  in  the  morning,  suffer- 
ing from  the  real  anguish  of  her  heart,  yet 
determined  to  exert  every  effort  of  forti- 
tude to  support  her  [iusban(i  under  his  pre- 
sent distresses.  She  shrunk  not  from  the 
painful  task,  nor  feared  to  encounter  any 
change  of  circumstances,  provided  he  did 
not  give  way  to.  despondency,  by  feeling 
too  acutely  the  follies  and  imprudencies  he 
had  been  guilty  of.  "  By  degreees,  (said 
she,)-!  will  endeavour  to  reconcile  him  to  » 
the  def)rivation  of  every  accustomed  luxu-  \ 
ry  ;  I  will  lead  him  back  to  domestic  hap- 
piness, which  surely  is  independant  of  any 
local  circumstance,  or  ambitious  pursuits/* 

The  breakfast  things  were  just  removed, 
and  Emily  continuing  her  mental  reveries, 
exclaimed,  "  how  unlucky,  that  my  poor 
Edward  is  now  obliged  to  be  from  home, 
when  I  have  a  thousand  plans  to  propose 
for  our  future  corftfort ;  but  how  shall  we 
break  this  sad  change  in  our  affairs  to  dear 
Mrs.  Fitsmorton  1  How  will  Mary  and  her, 
husband  sympathize  with  us  all." 

Then    recollecting  that  Fitsmorton   had! 
assured   her  the  business  lie  had   to  trans- 
act would  engage  him  but  an  hour  or  twoJ 
she  determined  to  await  his  return  as  pa-j 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  77 

tiently  as  possible.  She  wished  for  her 
1  friend  Miss  Travers,  who  with  Mr.  Macart- 
ny  was  staying  at  AltVed  Granby's  house, 
but  on- a  momenl^s  coiisidt  ration,  her  re- 
grets appeared  too  selfish  to  be  indulged  in, 
as  Mary  was  hourly  expecting  to  be  con- 
fined,, and  Miss  Travers  had  always  pro- 
mised to  be  with  her  at  the  expected  peri- 
od. She  intended  to  write  to  them,  but 
dreaded  any  imprudent  communication 
•might  unexpectedly  reach* Mrs.  Granby. 

Proper   accommodation    and    assistance 
iwere  procured  for  Captain  Dorville,    and 
the    surgeon    attended    Fitsmorton    home. 
Emil}'  heard  an  unusual  bustle  in  the  hail. 
rrhe  surgeon   learning  that  his  apparently 
dying  patient  Vvas  a  married  man,  hastened 
mp  the  stairs  to  prcpa-e  his  wife  for  the 
ldi3tres:^ing  scene.     Emily  at  the  same  mo- 
ment opened  the  c^ rawing- room  door,  and 
matching  the  sound  of  an  agonising  groan, 
was  rushing  out  of  the  room,  had  not  the 
?urgeon  resolutely    prevented   her,   till   he 
had  related  the  mournful  tale,     ^e  neither 
»pf)ke  nor  wept,  but  escaping  from  her  hu- 
mane infwrmer,  she  met  in  one  instant  the 
Hreadful  sight,  and  earnestly  entreated  that 
10  one  would  attend  to  her,  but  give  every 
possible  assistance  to  her  beloved  husband. 
His  eyes  were  sometimes  vacantly  fixed, 
and  sometimes  closed,  as  if  for  ever.     When 


78  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

every  thing  was  arranged,  as  much  as  pos- 
sible, for  his  convenience  and  comfort,  she 
requested  the  surgeon^s  opinion  ;  he  told 
her,  after  a  necessary  opt^ration,  he  should 
be  a  better  judge,  but  that  at  present,  he 
did  not  apprehend  any  immediate  danger. 

Etndy  family  repeated,  "  immediate  dan- 
ger." The  ball  was  extracted,  and  hopes 
were  pronounced  of  her  husband's  recovery. 
He  called  upon  her  name  ;  oj)pressed  na- 
ture could  no  longer  be  restrained  ;  she 
fainted  in  thearuss  of  her  attendants.  W  hen 
she  recovered,  Mrs.  Filsmorton  became  her 
great  anxiety; — how  shoidd  she  break  this 
sad  event  to  her?  Something  she  knew 
must  be  decided  upon,  and  fortunately  at 
this  moment  Dr.  Leicester,  who  was  mak- 
iniJ:one  of  his  accustomed  visits  to  London, 
knocked  at  Fitsmorton's  door.  When  he 
heard  from  the  servants  the  situation  of  the 
family,  he  wrote  upon  his  card  ihe  follow- 
ing words,  and  desired  it  might  be  given 
to  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  :  "  Can  y<ni  see  your 
sympathising  friend  ?"  She  ordered  him  to 
be  admitted  immediately  ;  their  mourni'ul 
meet i no-  may  easily  be  imagined  :  common-  ■, 
place  arguments  of  consolatiim  were  not  i 
offered  on  one  side,  nor  useless  and  des- 
pairing- lamentations  repeated  on  the  other. 
He  wished  to  remain  in  the  house,  and  to 
prolong  his  stay  in  town  ;  Emily  gratefully 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  79 

accepted  the  propositions  She  then  ex- 
pressed her  anxiety  abou't  Mrs.  Jbitsinor- 
ton,  and  Dr.  Leicester  undertook  the  pain- 
ful task  ot  breaking-  the  sad  intelligence  to 
her. 

After  endeavourin:;-  to  give  every  possi- 
ble considation  to  Liniiy,  he  said  ;  "  1.  will 
go  to  Mrs.  Fitsinxrion  direcllx,  my  dt^ar 
chUd  ;  and  do  you  return  to  the  pill(jfvv  of 
your  unfortunate  hus!»and. — Heaven  urant 
he  may  yet  he  spared  to  you  ;  and  that  this 
dark  cloud  may  quickly  pass  away.  It  is 
indeed  a  bitter  triaL'  the  God  of  all  com- 
Ifort  be  your  support  !" 

By  Dr.  Leicester's  kind  and  considerate 
attentions,  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  received  the 
afflictive  news  with  tolerable  coujposure. 
She  would  return  with  him  to  Emjiy,  and 
; after  the  first  violent  emotions  ai  seeing 
!her  son  in  such  a  situation,  she  exerted 
(every  elfort  to  soothe  and  assist  Emily,  in 
I  her  painful  attendance. 

Towards  theevenino-,  Fitsmorton  became 
idejirious,  and  danger  was  apprehended 
;fr()m  the  increase  of  his  fever;  the  late  irri- 
itable  state  of  his  mind,  and  the  irregular 
ilife  he  had  led,  contributing  much  to  every 
unfavourable  symptom  :  he  talked  of  Alfud 
Granby,  and  of  a  letter  of  importance,  of  a 
aiiiniatiire,  and  freciuently  called  upon  his 
}sister  i\n'  an   explanation  of  the  mystery. 


M  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

Poor  Emily  listened  in  fearfnl  sorrow;  and 
when  he,  vviih  apparent  rationality,  earnest- 
ly entreated  her  forgiveness  lor  all  his  neg- 
lect, calling  her  his  love,  his  injured  Emily, 
she  was  often  obliged  to  leave  the  room, 
in  uncontrouiable  distress  and  sorrow. 

When  she  understood  from  the  medical  i 
attendants,  that  Dorville  was  the  name  of 
her  husband's  adversary,  nothing  could  ex- 
ceed her  asronishment.  She  had  heard  his 
death  spoken  of,  and  lamented  by  all  the 
family  ;  long  before  Mary  Fitsmorton  be- 
came Mrs.  Granby  ;  and  had  ever  heard 
him  mentioned  with  almost  enthusiastic 
regard  and  friendship.  The  next  day,  when 
she  was  consulting  with  Dr.  Leicester  on 
the  propriety  of  sending  an  express  to  Al- 
fred Granby,  he  arrived  in  town,  in  conse- 
quence of  the  letter  he  had  received  from  ■ 
Fitsmorton.  Dorville's  danger  hourly  en- 
creased,  but  his  senses  were  not  afl'ected  ; 
and  when  he  h^mrd  of  Dr.  Leicester's  inti- 
macy in  the  Fitsmorton  family,  he  expres- 
sed an  earnest  wish  to  see  him.  Dr.  Lei- 
cester willingly  assented  ;  and  Dorville,  as 
well  as  his  condition  would  permit,  en- 
quired, with  tremulous  impatience,  after 
the  whole  f;imilv,  not  even  knowing  of  the 
death  of  ihe  first  Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton  ; 
and  when  he  learnt  that  Mary  had  long 
been  married,  the  agitation  he  experienced 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  91 

brought  on  an  alarmirfg  faintness,  from 
which  he  was  with  difficulty  recovered. 
Dr.  Leicester  in  vain  advised  him  to  defer 
farther  conversation,  but  he  only  answered  : 
"  What  would  be  hurtful  to  the  sick,  could 
not  atfect  the  dying  man.  Fain  would  I 
learn  by  what  strange  infatuation  the  man 
whom  1  loved  and  considered  as  a  brother, 
met  me  as  his  bitterest  foe  ?  How  unfortu- 
nate were  the  circumstances  which  have 
precluded  a  reciprocal  communication,  and 
my  death  appearing  properly  authentica- 
ted, has  doubtless  been  the  cause  of  Mary 
Fitsmorton^s  marriage. — 1  do  not  now  wish 
to  Jive." 

Dr.  Leicester  endeavoured  to  tranquil- 
lize his  mind. 

"  You   argue,  Sir,  as  you   ought  to  do  ; 
but  mysterious  indeed  are  the  ways  of  hea- 
ven !   How  ardently  have  I  anticipated  the 
moment  ot"  arrival  in  my  native  land.    I  did 
arrive  in  health  and  safety  ;  and  instead  of 
clasping  to  my  faithful   bosom  the  lovely 
object  of  my  hearths  first  attachment,  I  was 
n compelled   to  meet  hostilely  her  brother, 
|imv  dearest  friend  ;  and  this  circumstance, 
5had  she  not  effectually  barred  our  union, 
would  probably  have  separated  us  for  ever  ! 
Sir,   1  am  reconciled    to   death.     I  would 
only  know  the  motives  of  Fitsmorton's  con- 
duct.— Married  again,  say  you  I" 

VOL.  II.  8 


S2  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

In  vain  Dr.  Leicester  entreated  him  t© 
cease  every  heart-rending  enquiry ;  he 
would  continue. 

"  Tell  me,  dear  Sir,  is  the  present  Mrs. 
Fitsmorton  worthy  to  be  the  successor  of 
an  angel  ?  And  is  my  Mary  happily  mar- 
ried ?" 

A  contrariety  of  feelings  agitated  his 
frame,  when  Dr.  Leicester  answered  in  the 
affirmative. 

"  1  cannot  die  in  peace,  (Dorville  contin- 
ued,) unless  I  am  acquainted  with  the  in- 
fatuation which  has  misled  Fitsmorton  ;  he 
is  of  a  noble  and  generous  nature,  and  could 
not  wantonly  have  sported,  either  with 
his  own  lite,  or  with  mine." 

Dr.  Leicester  promised  he  should  have 
every  satisfactory  account  he  required  ; 
and  then  urged  him  to  endeavour  to  gain 
some  fiegree  of  composure. 

"  My  dear  Sir,  (he  answered)  I  am  com- 
posed. I  know  that  I  cannot  live  many 
davs.  1  am  resigned  to  the  will  of  hea- 
ven r 

The  resignatior  and  fortitude  of  Dorville 
much  interested  Dr.  Leicester  in  his  fate  ; 
he  left  him  to  investigate  the  cause  of  ihe 
duel,  saying,  as  he  arose  to  depart :  "  May 
the  Almighty  con>inue  to  you  his  gracious 
support;  and  remember,  my  dear  Sir,  that 
a  good  conscience  renders  every  evil  sup- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  S? 

portable,  and  that  your  awful  situation 
loses  every  terror,  from  the  soul's  resting  on 
the  x\lmighty  with  humble  hope  and  con- 
fidence. Depend  upon  seeing  me  again  as 
soon  as  possible." 

When  Alfred  Granby  received  Fitsmor- 
ton's  letter  and  packet,  he  was  enjoying  the 
comforts  of  a  social  domestic  circle.  Miss 
Travers  was  endeavouring  to  enliven  the 
drooping  spirits  of  Mrs.  Granby;  playfully 
anticipating  the  arrival  of  a  young  stranger, 
who  would  put  to  flight  all  melancholy 
ideas.  Mr.  Macartny  and.  Granby  were 
deeply  engaged  in  a  game  of  chess,  and 
heeded  not  the  entrance  of  a  servant,  till  he 
put  the  packet  into  his  master's  hands. — 
"  Good  heaven !  (Mary  exclaimed,)  it  is 
my  brother's  hand-writing.  Dear  Alfred, 
quickly  open  it,  something  of  consequence 
must  have  occurred." 

He  opened  the  packet,  and  the  miniature 
falling  from  it,  Mary,  without  waiting  for 
her  husband's  answer,  whether  she  should 
unfold  it,  tore  off  the  envelope,  and  beheld 
the  miniature  of  Dorville  !  At  this  instant 
Granby  finding  the  contents  of  his  letter 
very  serious,  took  up  a  candle,  and  went 
into  his  study. 

Mary  gave  a  faint  scream,  and  became 
insensible  to  all  around  her  ;  when  she  re- 
covered, she  desired  to  be  assisted  to  her 


»4  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

own  apartment;  but  all  the  tender  enquir- 
ies of  Miss  Truvers  could  not  j)ro(:ure  troni 
her  any  explanation  on  the  subject.  VV  hen 
Granby  had  read  the  letter,  he  came  into 
]Mary^s  dressing- room  ;  and  asked  her  for 
the  miniature.  Pale  and  trembling  she 
pointed  to  the  table.  And  when  he  con- 
siderately prepared  her  for  the  necessity  of 
his  setting-  out  immediately  for  London,  she 
hurst  into  tears. 

"  Your  brother  is  ill,  ray  dear  Mary,  be 
assured  that  no  trifling  circumstance  should 
induce  me  to  leave  you." 

"  1  entreat  you,  Alfred,  (she  wildly  an- 
swered,) to  let  me  read  the  contents  of  that 
packet." 

"  Had  you  not  better,  my  love,  wait  till 
I  return  ?  You  shall  hear  from  me  the  mo- 
ment I  arrive  in  town." 

J'  No,  no,"  was  all  she  could  articulate. 
'     He  entreated  her  to  be  composed. 

"  I  will  indeed  be  composed,  but  I  am 
sure  Edward  is  very  ill,  perhaps  he  is  dead  ! 
and  merciful  heaven  !  how  came  that  mi- 
niature in  his  possession  ?" 

"  Heaven  forbid,  Mary,  that  your  bro- 
ther should  be  dead  !  And  are  you  sure, 
my  love,  you  can  now  hear  of  his  perplexi- 
ties, his  misfortunes,  with  proper  compo- 
sure and  fortitude  ?" 

^\-  Alfred,    think    what   I  should  sufler. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  85 

were  you  to  leave  me  in  this  state  of  sus- 
pense." 

"  Tiien  arm  yourself,  my  clearest  life, 
Avith  resolution  ;  think  how  my  happiness 
depends  upon  you,  and  perhaps  the  exist- 
ence of  our  expected  treasure.  Endeavour 
to  subdue  all  violent  agitation,  whilst  you 
peruse  your  brother's  letter.  Miss  Travers 
will  remain  with  you.  I  must  make  a  few 
necessary  arrangements  for  my  immediate 
departure;"  and  with  repeated  expressions 
of  solicit\ide  and  tenderness,  he  motioned 
for  Macariny  to  accompany  him,  and  they 
left  the  room  together. 

On  returrJng  to  the  dressing-room,  they 
found  Mary  fainting  in  the  arms  of  her 
friend.  Granby  was  nearly  distracted.  To 
leave  her  in  so  critical  a  situation  was  tor- 
ture to  her  mind  !  Fitsmorton  perhaps  dy- 
ing !  or  if  he  had  escaped  all  danger  from 
the  duel,  to  what  depths  of  misery  might 
his  feelings  lead  him  !  He  endeavoured  to 
assist  in  the  recovery  of  Mary,  who  soon 
assured  him  she  was  better — she  was  quite 
well  ;  urged  him  to  hasten  to  her  brother  ; 
that  the  contents  of  his  letter  had  indeed 
affected  her  ;  that  he  should  hear  of  her  al- 
most as  soon  as  he  arrived  in  London  ; 
again,  and  again  assurins:  him  that  she  felt 
quite  well.  Her  hurried  accents  and  wild- 
mess  of  manner  at  the  same  time  contra- 
«  * 


SQ-  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

dieting  the  assurances  her  tongue  uttered. 
Much  tender  altercation  on  his  part  ensu- 
ed, but.  at  length  he  tore  himself  away,  and 
was  imuiediately  on  the  road  to  Londr.n. 
He  travelled  all  night,  and  reached  Fits- 
morton's  hoiise  early  on  the  following 
morning.  It  may  well  be  imagined  with 
what  breathless  impatience  his  first  enquir- 
ies were  made,  and  with  what  emotions 
he  heard  that  Fitsmorton's  fever  had  alarm- 
ingly encreased,  and  that  there  was  but 
little  hope  of  Dorville's  recovery.  Emily- 
clung  to  him  in  speechless  agony,  as  to 
her  husband's  dearest  friend  ;  loss  of  for- 
tune, every  thing  now  appeared  trivial, 
when  put  in  competition  with  the  idea  of 
his  death. 

Dr.  Leicester  and  Mr.  Granby  conversed 
for  some  time  on  the  mnurntul  subject,  the 
former  repeating  Dorville's  incoherent  ex- 
pressions, which  distressed  and  alarmed 
Granby  more  than  he  chose  to  acknowl- 
edge ;  and  when  Dr.  Leicester  had  read 
Fitsmorton's  letter,  the  look  which  they 
exchanged  spoke  volumes  to  the  heart  of 
each. 

By  the  first  post  came  the  followina:  let- 
ter, from  Mrs.  Granby  to  her  mother : — 


TOE  FATAL  CABINET  81 

To  Mrs,  Fihmorton^ 
"'  My  dearest  mother, 

"  The  feelings  I  experience  at  the  idea 
of  confessing  the  reprehensible  part  I  have 
acted,  can  only  proceed  from  the  reflection 
that  I  may  soon  quit  this  mortal  liie,  and 
from  my  sincere  and  heart-felt  repentance. 
I  milst  briefly  retrace  the  days  which  are 
gone,  I  must  wound  your  bosom  by  avow- 
ing the  duplicity  of  my  conduct. 

"  My  beloved  mother!  yon  well  remem- 
ber D>rville's  intimacy  in  our  family.  He 
soon  distina^uished  me  with  peculiar  reofard, 
and  by  decrees  our  attachment  became  mu- 
tual, but  alas,  hv-  wanted  the  essential  re- 
couim  nidation  of  my  father ;  he  wanted  for- 
tune. Let  the  fascination  "f  his  manners, 
and  the  uncommon  worth  of  his  character, 
excuse  my  partiality  ;  too  soon  we  l'»ved 
with  all  tlie  enthusiasm  of  a  first  and  vir- 
tuous passion  ;  and  but  for  my  entreaties, 
he  would  openly  have  confessed  his  love 
for  me  to  my  father  ;  have  braved  bi'^  dis- 
pleasure, and  perhaps  waited  for  haopier 
prospects.  In  one  of  these  tender  expos- 
tulation^, Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton  unex- 
pectedly surprised  us  ;  for  hitherto,  even 
she  had  been  a  stranger  to  our  attachment. 
In  vain  she  talked  of  the  imprtidence  of  my 
eonduct,  and  with  tears  solicited  me  to  dis- 


88  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

close  our  situation  to  you,  my  mother,  and 
to  her  husband  ;  we  had  hound  her  to  se- 
crecy. I  was  inexorable  to  her  entreaties, 
for  1  wished  to  save  you  uneasiness  ;  not 
considering  hovy  my  want  of  confidence 
might  eventually  prove  the  cause  of  mu- 
tual wretchedness. 

"  Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton,  won  by  our 
prayers  and  entreaties,  against  her  better 
judgment  afforded  Dorville  every  possible 
opportunity  of  seeing  me,  and  in  her  pre- 
sence we  often  vowed  everlasting  love,  and 
enjoyed  a  short  interval  of  happiness.  The 
sternness  of  my  father's  temper  would  at 
times  put  to  flight  all  visionary  prospects 
of  felicity  ;  but  the  delusions  of  hope  often- 
er  prevailed  ;  and  we  rested  on  each  other's 
faith,  vi^ith  every  presage  of  being  one  day 
happily  united. 

"  At  length  Dorville  was  obliged  to  in- 
form me  of  his  destination  to  India;  the 
pangs  which  then  rent  my  bosom  never 
were  forgotten.  Flis  tenderness  when  in- 
flicting the  stroke,  and  his  own  suppressed 
emotions,  have  ever  been  alike  remember- 
ed. Just  at  this  period,  a  temporary  sepa- 
ration gave  rise  to  a  fatal  mistake  ;  and 
hence  the  custom  of  havins:  my  letters  di- 
rected to  Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton.  Fie 
had  long  promised  me  his  picture,  and  by 
some  unavoidable  delay,  it  was  not  finished 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  gg 

till  after  we  had  taken  our  last  distressing 
farewell,  and  he  then  sent  it,  acconipanied 
by  a  few   lines  to   me,   under  cover  to  my 
friend.     She  received  it,  I  have  little  doubt, 
I  on  the  very  day  she   was  so  suddenly  seiz- 
ed  with  the  alarmin<^  irlness ;  and   having 
safely  locked   it  in   her  cabnu^t,  siie  never 
[had  an  opportunity  ofspeakingto  me  alone, 
I  till   the  delirium  of  her  senses  forbade  all 
rational   communication.     1  attributed  my 
not  receiving'  the  miniature  to  every  cause 
Ibut    the   right.     But   it   was   long   a  great 
i source  of  disappointment. 
I      "Error  is  sometimes    punished   in    this 
ilife.     What  hours  of  misery  I  endured  af- 
Iter  Dorville\s  departure  !   Many  a  wakeful 
night  have  I  passed  listening  to  the  wind  ; 
and  in  supplicating  the  Almighty  to  bless 
I  and  to  preserve  him.      How  often   have  I 
oljserved  you  watch  in  silence  every  turn 
of  ray  countenance,  attributing  to  indispo- 
sition  my   apparent    languor,   which   only 
i proceeded  from  the  wretched  state  of  my 
mind. 

7 '  **  I  erroneously  termed  my  resolutions  of 
secrecy  a  proper  firmness  of  temper  ;  and 
II  determined  to  await,  in  romantic  despair, 
some  change  of  my  wretched  destiny.— 
'Ever  enthusiastic  in  my  attachments,  Mrs. 
Edward  Fitsmorton's  death  was  a  severe 
-and  bitter  stroke.     Sweet  soul !  the  tender- 


90  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

ness  of  her  nature  had  yielded  to  the  indul-  v 
gence  of  my  wishes,  against  the  conviction  \ 
of  her  deliberate  judgment.     That  I  should] 
have  been  the  means  of  tarnishing  her  fair 
fame  in  the  eyes  of  my  beloved  brother! — 
That  I  should  have  caused  him  to  risk  his 
life  in  an  imaginary  resentment Merci- 
ful Heaven  ! My  senses  are,  at  this  mo- 
ment, so  bewildered,  that  no  expected  bo- 
dily sufferings  can  equal  the  sufferings  of 
my  mind  !  My  brother — or  Dorville — may 
be what  would  I  say  ? Oh  my  mo- 
ther'     ^      ^      ^      ^     *     ^     ^     ^     ^     '^ 

"  I  am  now  calmer — I  must  proceed, 
whilst  strength  is  lent  me  for  the  painful 
task. 

"  When  Mrs.  Edward  Fitsmorton  died, 
I  more  unrestrainedly  wept  the  sorrows  of 
my  heart  ;  and  though  your  dear  bosom  ap- 
peared the  safest,  surest  refuge,  the  dread 
of  my  father  being  made  acquainted  with 
our  attachment,  withheld  every  proper  con- 
fidence in  your  indulgence.  I  never  heard 
from  Di^rville.  Loving  him  as  I  did,  ideas 
the  most  absurd  and  romantic  haunted  my 
imagination  ;  but  the  thought  of  his  pre- 
meditated neglect  or  infidelity  never  enter- 
ed my  mind. 

"  When  Emily  was  introduced  into  our 
family,  she  appeared  the  counter-part  of  the 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  gi 

friend  I  had  so  truly  mourned ;  and,  at  this 
jperiod,   had   not   the   report  of  Dorville's 
(death  been  fatally  received,  I  think  I  should 
Jhave    entrusted    her    with    my    distressing 
perplexities  ;   but  1  soon  determined  to  bu- 
ry in  silence  my  duplicity  and  affliction. 

"  What  ]  suftered  at  his  supposed  death 
can  now  little  avail  to  dwell  upon!  nor 
dare  1  investigate  my  present  feelings. 
Granby  deserves  a  happier  fate  ! 

"  In  every  altercation  which  passed  be- 
tween Edward  and  my  father,  1  rejoiced 
that  1  had  not  subjected  myself  to  similar 
uneasiness,  for  I  well  kn6vv  nothing  could 
induce  him  to  approve  of  my  attachment 
to  Dorville,  on  account  of  his  profession 
and  of  his  want  of  fortune. 

"  On  my  brother's  marriage,  something 
like  cheerfulness  visited  my  mind  ;  for  1 
loved  Emily  with  the  fondest  affection.  And 
now  came  the  bitterest  trial — the   hardest 

to  endure  ! Alfred   Granb}'  offered  me 

his  hand  and  heart.  You  know,  dearest 
mother,  how  strangely  I  appeared  to  receive 
his  addresses  !  H'uv  I  evaded  them  till  ex- 
cuses were  useless  :  1  knew  my  father  would 
oblige  me  to  many  him  ;  for  fortune,  con- 
nexions, character,  on  Granby^s  part,  were 
ull  unexceptionable. 

"  I  requested  lime  for  consideration. — I 
told  him,  and  Heaven  knows  1  told  him 


as  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

truly  !  that  there  was  no  man  living  I  pre- 
ferred to  him.  He  attributed  my  repug- 
nance to  timidity.  He  gave  me  his  whole 
heart,  whilst  mine,  alas!  was  buried  in  the 
grave  with  Dorvilie! 

"  Dear  Gran  by  !  My  mother  !  I  dare  not 
write  to  him  !  but  do  you  leil  him  every 
thing.  Oh  tell  him,  also,  that  his  tender- 
ness of  conduct,  his  many  virtues What 

would   1  add  ? D*>rviile,  or  my  brother 

may  have  already  become  the  victim  ot  my 
folly  !  And  then  could  there  exist  such  a 
Vt^retch  as  the  wife  of  Granby  i.Wife  !  did  I 
say  ? — almost  a  mother  ! 

"  The  chaos  of  my  mind  no  longer  per- 
mits me  to  dwell  on  the  subject.' Were 

you   now   with  me  ! But,  be  prepared 

for  the  worst  which  can  happen.  I  have 
had  such  strange  feelings  since  the  dread- 
ful shock 


''  Fray    tell    Granby   1   cannot  write  to 
him  :  and,  if  1  leave  him  a  daughter 

"Adieu,   my   mother! 1 'can    no 

more 

"  Mary  Granby.^' 

Mrs.  Fitsmortoii  received  the  above  let- 
ter just  as  the  afflicted  party  had  partaken 
of  a  mournful  l^reakfast.  The  variation  of 
her  countenance  was  observed  by  all  ;  and 
Granby  requested  to  know,  with  great  agi- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  93 

tation,  if  the  packet  contained  a  letter  for 
him.  Mrs.  Filsmorion,  knowing-  that  any 
concealment  was  not  practicable,  answered, 
"  Dear  Alfred,  there  is  no  other  letter. 
Mary  is  at  present  well  ;  and,  as  Edward 
appears  rather  better,  1  mean  to  set  out 
immediately  for  your  house." 

She    hesitated ;   and   Granby   becoming 
uncontroulably    agitated,   said,    "  He   was 
sure  Mary  was  ill  ;  he  would  accompany 
Mrs.  Fitsmorton,  to  satisfy  himself  as  to 
her  real  situation,  and  then  return  imme- 
diately with  Macartnyto  London."     "But 
do,  dear  madam,  tell  me  !"  he  continued, 
"  is  Mary  still  up  !   or  are  we  disappointed 
of  our  dearest  hopes!  I  can  bear  any  thing', 
j  provided  my  wife  is  doing  well.     She  may 
Ihave  prematurely  suffered  from  the  shock 
(ofEdvvard's  letter.     For  God's  sake  dear- 
lest  mother,  speak  to  me!  your  silence  is 
imost  dreadful  !" 

'-    Mrs.  Fitsmorton  put  the  letter  into  Dr> 
^Leicester's  hands,  and  recommended  Gran- 
by to  retire  with   him  for  the  perusal,  ad-  . 
dinjT,  "  My  dear  Alfred,  be  lenient — be  pa- 
tient— Mary  is  still  your  wife." 

VV^ith  tremulous  anxiety  he  followed  Dr. 
Leicester  into  the  library.  Granby  scarce- 
y  breathed,  from  the  excess  and  contraries 
y  of  his  feelings;  but,  covering  his  eyes 
vith  his  hands,  and  leaning  over  the  Doc- 

^    VOL.  II.  9 

r 


94  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

tor's  chair,  he  listened  in  mournful  silence 
to  the  contents  of  INlary^s  letter.  W  hen 
Dr.  Leicester  had  concluded,  Granby  ex- 
claimed, '•■  And  this  is  the  being  1  have 
cherished  as  the  solace  of  my  existence  ? 
Great  God,  how  1  have  loved  her  V' 

"  Endeavour  to  compose  yourself,  my 
dear  Sir;  Mrs.  Granby  must  be  the  great- 
est sufferer,  because  self-reproach  will  in- 
trude upon  her  mind.  Consider  the  con- 
solaiion  and  attentions  she  now  requires. 
She  has  acttd  \vr»')ngly  in  some  insiances, 
but  not  designedly." 

'*  No  one  can  forin  a  just  idea  of  my  pre- 
sent lieelings.  Fear  not,  good  Dr.  Leices- 
ter, from  me  any  rigorous  proceedings.  Un- 
happy misguided  Maiy  ! 

"Sir,  you  know  not  how  I  prized  the 
fancied  treasurfe  of  her  heart  !  What  a  cri- 
tical time  is  this  for  her  to  endure  such 
agitation  of  mind  !  Fly,  dear  Sir,  and  ex- 
pedite Mrs.  Fitsmorton's  departure.  Me- 
thinks  1  shall  be  more  at  peace  to  know 
that  Mary  rests  on  the  bosom  of  her  n>o- 
ther.  All  my  visionary  happiness  here  lor 
ever  ends  !" 

"  Recollect,  dear  Sir,  that  Mrs.  Granby 
is  innocent  of  any  intentional  evil  ;  and 
that,  though  unforlunate  circumstances  have 
occurred,  her  mind  lias  ever  been  the  seat 
of  purity." 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  ©3 

"  Ob  yes,  all  this  do  I  remember.  I  al- 
so remember  her  frequent  dejection  of  spir- 
its. Can  it  be  possible  ihat  1  have  only 
grasped  the  shadow  of  happiness  ! — Too 
well,  too  well,  can  i  now  account  for  that 
cold  timidity  of  manner  which  would  have 
declined  my  addresses  ;  and  which,  since 
our  marriage,  has  only  been  conquered  by 
reason  and  duty. 

"  You  must  i>o  aionf*  to  the  unfortunate 
Dt^rville;  I  can  never  see  him  more." 

Dr.  Leicester  promised  every  thing  pos- 
sible^ for  his  satisfacticn,  and  deemed  it 
wise  to  leave  him  to  himself  for  a  short 
time. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  was  soon  on  the  road 
to  her  dauohter  ;.  and  Dr.  Leicester  kept 
his  appointment  with  the  uniortunate  Dor- 
vilje. 

It  were  unnecessary  here  to  dwell  on  the 
many  unpleasant  scenes  which  passed  in 
respect  to  money  affairs.  Creditors  were 
poiirins?  in  their  accounts  from  every  quar- 
ter. Debts  of  honour,  and  debts  of  dis- 
honour, from  the  money-lending  tribe,  pro- 
claimed the  ruined  situation  of  Fitsmorton's 
affairs,  wlio  lay  insensible  to  the  miseries 
and  perplexities  with  which  he  was  sur- 
rounded. 

Dr.  Leicester's  interview  with  Dorviile 
was  solemn  and  affecting.     A  mortification 


qS  the  fatal  cabinet. 

was  expected  ;  and  he  felt  his  end  approach- 
ing :  the  faculties  of  his  mind  were  clear 
and  unimpaired  ;  and  he  drew  from  Dr. 
Leicester  a  circumstantial  account  of  eve- 
ry distressing  event. 

He  wept  when  he  spoke  of  Mary,  and 
pathetically  lamented  the  situation  of  her 
brother. 

"  But  tell  him,  Sir,"  he  continued,  "  that 
I  probably  should  have  acted  as  he  has 
done,  under  the  same  circumstances  and 
provocations  :    tell    him,    with    my    dying 

breath,  1   forgive 1   love  him."     Then 

pausing  a  few  moments,  he  exclaimed, 
"  But  what  consolation  can  be  aftbrded  to 
Mary  ?  She  was  my  first,  my  only  love  ! 
She  will  sink  under  this  trial  :  yet  she  is 
the  wife  of  another  !  So  well  do  1  know 
her  heart,  that,  being  the  primary  cause  of 
my  death,  and  perhaps  of  her  brother's,  it 
will  overwhelm  her  with  such  despair,  that 
life  to  her  can  hardly  be  desirable." 

"  VYe  must  leave  the  issue  of  events," 
replied  Dr.  Leicester,  "  to  a  wise,  to  a  ne- 
ver-failing Providence.  If  the  trial  is  great, 
the  strength  of  God,  operating  on  the  hu- 
man mind,  will  still  be  greater.  Errors 
abjured  and  repented  of,  will,  sooner  or  la- 
ter, bestow  peace  on  the  truly-penitent." 

Dorville  was  exhausted:  he  could  only 
say,  "  To  speak  peace  to  the  troubled  soul, 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  97 

and  to  promise  the  reward  of  true  repen- 
tance, proclaim  your  godlike  mission  ;  trust 
me  I  will  yet  be  revenged/' 

Dr.  Leicester  was  about  to  deprecate  the 
idea  of  revenge  ;  but  the  unfortunate  suf- 
ferer had  tainted.  Attributing,  therefore, 
the  expressions  to  a  temporary  delirium, 
he  left  Dorville  in  the  care  of  Felix,  a  faith- 
ful black  servant,  and  sent  immediately  for 
medical  advice,  intending  to  return  again 
as  soon  as  opportunity  offered. 

Fitsmorton^s  fever  abated  ;  the  wound 
in  his  side  wore  a  favourable  appearance  ; 
and  little  danger  was  apprehended  for  his 
life  :  but  as  his  bodily  sufferings  lessened, 
his  mental  sufferings  increased,  and  a  new 
stroke  of  distress  soon  overwhelmed  his 
mind  with  unavailing  remorse  and  deep 
despair.  He  had  insisted  on  being  con- 
veyed to  Dorville's  bed-side  ;  every  thing 
was  arranged  for  the  mournful  interview  ; 
and  Fitsmorton  fancied  he  should  feel  more 
composed  when  he  had  received  the  for- 
giveness of  his  friend  ;  but  alas  !  this  satis- 
faction was  forbidden  ! Dorville  breath- 
ed his  last  in  the  arms  of  Dr.  Leicester,  on 
the  evening  previous  to  the  expected  meet- 
ins:. 


98  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

CHAP.    V. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  met  her  daughter 
with  emotions  better  felt  than  described. 
She  found  her  recovering  from  a  serious 
alarm  of  the  approaching  eventful  hour. 
Her  self-accusations,  the  forgiveness  she 
solicited  from  her  mother,  lier  dread  of  see- 
ing Granby,  and  above  all,  the  distressing- 
anxiety  she  telt  for  the  fate  of  her  brother 
and  Dorville,  excited  Mrs.  Fitsmorton's 
tenderest  sympathy  ;  and  gave  rise  to  every 
sad  apprehension  for  her  safety.  At  length 
the  news  arrived  of  Dorville's  death,  and  of 
the  dreadful  situation  Fitsmorton  was  re- 
duced to,  from  the  remorse  and  despond- 
ency of  his  aiind.  Unfortunately  the  ser- 
vant gave  the  letter  to  Mary,  whilst  Mrs. 
Fitsmorton  was  making  some  family  ar- 
rangements ;  and  nothing  could  prevent  her 
being  made  acquainted  with  its  contents, 
which  occasioned  such  violent  emotions, 
that  she  was  obliged  to  be  conveyed  to  her 
bed  ;  and  after  many  hours  of  extreme  dan- 
ger and  suffering,  gave  birth  to  a  female  in- 
fant. She  remained  insensible  to  the  new- 
born blessing,  and  in  a  few  days  was  lost 
to  all  recollection.  Poor  Mrs.  Fitsmorton, 
who  had  supplicated  heaven  for  her  life, 
now  hung  over  her  in  speechless  agony  ; 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  g^ 

and  but  for  the  exertions  of  Macartny  and 
Miss  Travers,  she  musi  have  yielded  to  the 
pressure  of  this  afflicticn.  Granbv,  aroused 
by  Mary's  alarming  situation,  and  much 
affected  by  the  death  ot  D<m  ville,  left  Lon- 
don, and  hastened  home  with  proper  medi- 
cal  assistance.  When  he  beheld  the  child 
of  Miry,  the  child  he  had  anticipated  with 
the  fondest  expectations  of  delight,  his 
emotions  were  uncontroulable. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  decided  to  remain  with 
her  daughter,  though  nearly  distracted 
when  reflecting  on  the  critical  situation  of 
her  son. 

Granby  and  Macartny  hastened  to  Lon- 
don. Fitsmorton  had  relapsed,  and  they 
encountered  scenes  equally  mournful  and 
distressiijg.  Emily  bore  her  part  in  them 
with  every  sense  of  the  acutest  feeling", 
but  generally  with  apparent  resignation. — . 
How  often  does  the  tale  of  fiction  describe 
scenes  between  the  suffering  patient  and 
the  weeping  friend  ;  neither  are  prayers  and 
exhortations  wanting  from  the  distressed 
mother  or  affectionate  wife,  to  console  and 
soothe  the  dear  object  apparentl}'  on  the 
bed  of  death.  Such  heroism  belonged  not 
to  Emily  ;  in  silence  and  in  sorrow,  she  ad- 
ministered to  the  wants  of  her  husband, 
and  in  silence  and  in  sorrovv  only,  could 
she  lift  up  her  heart  to  supplicate  heaven 
for  his  recovery. 


!••  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

A  few  hours  before  Dorvi lie's  death,  he 
requested  to  see  Dr.  Leicester,  and  putting 
into  his  hands  a  sealed  packet,  gave  it  to 
him,  as  his  last  vviil  and  testament.  Little 
conversation  passed  between  them  :  his  last 
words  were,  "  telJ  Mary  we  shall  meet  in 
heaven  !  that  1  die  in  peace  with  all  man- 
kind;* that  1  die  in  the  hope  of  tuture  hap- 
piness.^' 

Dr.  Leicester  was  endeavouring  to  per- 
suade him  to  join  in  the  prayers  of  the 
church,  but  his  approaching  dissolution  for- 
bade every  such  exertion  ;  and  after  lying 
for  some  time  insensible  to  all  around  him, 
he  expired  in  the  arms  of  Dr.  Leicester. 

Although  the  mercy  of  heaven  be  unli- 
mited, this  awful  and  impressive  scene 
spoke  the  inefficacy  and  folly  of  trusting  to 
a  death-bed  repentance  ;  when  corporeal 
vigour  is  fled,  and  the  mind  is  sunk  in  list- 
less apathy,  from  the  sufferings  of  exhaust- 
ed nature. 

Df>rville's  v/ill  was  opened,  it  consisted 
of  a  verv  few  lines  ;  he  divided  his  forrune 
between  Edward  Fitsmorton,  and  the  first 
child  of  Mrs.  Granby,  if  it  were  a  female  ; 
if  a  son,  and  there  were  other  children,  the 
property  was  to  be  equally  divided  amongst 
them  ;  giving  this  reason  for  his  wishes, 
that  if  Mnry's  eldest  child  proved  to  be  a 
girl,  she  might  hereafter  be  united  to  Fits- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  JOI 

miorton's  eldest  son.  He  provided  com- 
fortably for  his  black  servant,  Felix  ;  and 
remembered  Dr.  Leicester,  by  requesting 
Ihim  to  accept  a  valuable  diamond  ring. — 
To  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  and  Emily,  he  left  all 
Ithe  valuable  presents  he  had  intended  for 
Mary  Fitsmorton. 

This  unfortunate  young  man  gave  the 
earliest  promise  of  every  amiable  quality 
■ithat  could  adorn  and  dignify  hulnan  na- 
ture. Serious  and  rational  pursuits  ever 
engaged  his  attention  ;  he  possessed  the 
Igifts  of  genius  and  of  i-ntellect.  He  was  an 
honour  to  the  profession  he  had  chosen,  and 
his  example  ever  evinced,  that  bravery  is 
not  incompatible  with  humanity.  His  un- 
cle, who  had  long  resided  in  India,  always 
gave  him  to  understand,  that  his  profession 
must  be  his  dependance.  But  with  the 
caprice  incident  to  age  and  infirmity,  or 
from  reasons  useless  to  investigate,  when 
be  died  left  Dorville  sole  heir  to  his  im- 
mense and  accumulating  property.  To 
Mary  Fitsmorton,  (the  constant  and  belov- 
ed object  of  his  heart,)  he  now  looked  for- 
ward, for  the  completion  of  his  happy 
prospects.  Every  obstacle  to  their  union 
appeared  to  be  remo^'ed  ;  but  the  sanguine 
anticipation  of  ideal  bliss  was  fated  never 
to  be  realized  ! 

Fitsmorton  was  again  pronounced  out  of 


103  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

danger.  Yet  nothing  could  tranquilise  his 
min:j,  and  the  torture  ot  an  accusino-  con- 
science  seemed  daily  to  increvise.  His  mur- 
dered i'riend  ! — his  untortunate  sister!  so 
haunted  his  imagination,  that  even  Emily, 
on  whom  his  heart  had  lately  rested  with 
the  fondest  alfection,  could  sometimes  only 
weep  upon  his  bosom  in  tender  despond- 
ency. 

Girmljy  returned  to  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  to 
endeavour  to  support  her  in  the  painful  task 
she  was  nnderi^oini^.  And  it  was  satisfac- 
tory to  he.u'  troni  every  medical  opinion, 
that  Mary  would  eventually  be  perfectly 
restored  to  ht^r  health  and  senses.  The 
child  whom  Emiiy  had  kindly  sheltered  in 
her  own  nursery,  in  spite  of  every  attention 
and  care,  began  alarmingly  to  decline.  A 
wet-nurse  was  deemed  the  only  chance  for 
its  vvell-cjoing;  and  at  leng^th  it  was  settled 
that  Catherine  Walker,  who  was  still  the 
joint  care  of  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  and  Emiiv, 
should  undertake  the  office.  She  had 
brought  into  the  world  an  infant,  who  lived 
but  a  few  days,  and  she  gratefully  became 
the  preserver  of  Granby's  unfortunate  child. 
J  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  answered  some  cruel 
letters  from  her  friends,  and  soon  reconciled 
all  parties.  This  of  course  contributed  to 
give  peace  to  Catherine's  mind,  who  v\  hilst 
she   was   thus  respectably  cherished   and 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  io3 

I  protected,  shudrlered  with  horror  at  the  fate 
i  she  iiad  escaped,   and  formed  every   good 
[!  resolve  to  continue  in  the  path  of  virtue, 
I  which  she  hud  so  providentially  regained, 
in  due  lime,  Firsmorton   recovered   his 
health,   but   the   voice   of  conscience  still 
spoke  daggers  to  his  heart ;   he  dragged  on 
'  a  joyless  exiistence,  and  felt  unworthy  of  the 
■  blessings    which    were   again    surrounding 
j  him.      Proper  care  had  been  taken  to  settle 
his  afiairs,  and  he  deterniined,  by  the  most 
i  rigorous  economy,  to  prevent  his  children 
;  from  teeling  the  etfects  of  his  own   repre- 
i  hensible   conduct.      He  soon   resolved    to 
;  leave  London,  to  seclude  himself  in  some 
i  retired  part  of  the  world,  and  to  indulge  in 
;  the  misery  of  his  own  reflections.    He  would 
let  FiisniMrton  Park,  he  would  not  have  it 
restored  to  himself,  as  the  gift  of  his   mur- 
dered friend;  but  when  his  child  was  of  an 
age    to    take    possession    of   the    estate,  .it 
should    again    be    restored    to   the   family. 
Thus  thought  and  reasoned  Fitsmorton  in 
the  hour  of  gloomy  despondency  ;  and  he 
would  frequently  exclaim,  when  Emily  en- 
deavoured    to    soothe    and    re-assure    his 
mind  : 

"•  And  can  you  still  follow   the  fate  of 

sijrh  a  wretch  as  I  am  ?  Will  you  adminis- 

i    ter  to  a  muid  diseased,  and   relinquish   all 

'    the  comtorts  and  pleasures  of  society,  for 


104  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

one  dead,  for  ever  dead  to  all  worldly  in- 
tercourse? J mpetuosity  of  feeling  has  un- 
done me;  1  took  into  my  hand  the  sword 
of  retribution,  and  most  fatally  has  the  point 
recoiled  upon  my  own  bosom.  Oh  Emily, 
the  image  of  my  murdered  friend  is  ever 
betore  me  !" 

"  Cease,  dearest  Edward,  to  encourage 
such  heart-breaking  reflections.  You  were 
misled  by  the  deceptive  evidence  of  un- 
merited injuries.  Wide  is  the  mark  between 
deliberate  guilt,  and  thoiv.iOrs  incidental 
to  human  nature,  I  now  feel  too  acutely 
to  arrange  my  ideas  on  this  sad  subject.  I 
trust  1  shall  soon  be  more  composed  to 
speak  comfort  to  your  soul  ;  but  of  this  be 
assured,  we  are  bound  by  one  fate,  and  that, 
whilst  existence  is  allowed  me,  it  is  only 
ol  value  for  your  dear  sake." 

"  Emily,  1  then  derive  one  cordial  drop 
in  the  hitter  cup  of  life,  from  your  tender 
sympathy.  What  blessings  have  I  thrown 
away,  what  mercies  have  1  slighted  !'' 

Every  thing  was  soon  arranged  for  their 
removal  from  London,  and  a  cottage  in 
S'Hith  Wales  was  to  become  their  future 
residence.  And  as  every  species  of  afflic- 
tion imagines  that  change  of  scene,  and 
chan2:e  of  objects,  will  prove  a  salutary  re- 
lief, Fitsmorton  hailed  his  departure  from 
London  in  gloomy  and  abstracted  silence  ; 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  105 

he  fancied  that  the  wild  scenery  of  nature 
would  accord  with  the  feelings  of  his  heart; 
where,  secluded  from  every  human  eye,  he 
could  mourn  over  his  past  follies,  in  all  the 
luxury  of  undisturbed  reflection. 

Dr.  Leicester  saw,  with  regret,  how 
much  he  was  the  victim  of  erroneous  feel- 
inofs  and  sentiments.  That  instead  of  hum- 
bling himself  before  the  God  he  had  offend- 
ed, in  unaffected  penitence  of  spirit,  he 
was  treasuring  up  the  remembrance  of  his 
disappointments  and  follies  ;  and  with  una- 
vailing impatience  reprobating  the  infatu- 
ation which  has  misled  him. 

When  the  novelty  of  a  secluded  situa- 
tion has  passed  away,  Fitsmorton's  mind 
again  sunk  in  listless  apath\',  or  criminal 
despair.  He  sometimes  absented  himself 
from  the  family  for  whole  days  together; 
he  felt  himself  a  proscribed  and  isolated 
being  ;  and  there  were  moments,  when,  to 
relieve  himself  from  the  burthen  of  exist- 
ence, appeared  to  be  the  only  refuge  from 
the"  misery  which  consumed  him.  A 
twelvemonth  passed,  and  his  mind  was  still 
the  prey  of  unav^ailing  remorse.  Dr.  and 
Mrs.  Leicester  were  the  only  .visitors  re- 
ceived at  the  cottage.  Dr.  Leicester 
watched  in  silence  every  movement  of  the 
unhappy  Fitsmorton,  and  had  hitherto  per- 
ceived no  alteration  in  his  ideas  for  the 

VOL.  n.  10 


io6  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

better.  But  Dr.  Leicester  did  not  give  up 
the  case  as  hopeless  ;  and  in  answer  to  one 
of  his  long  argumentive  letters,  Fitsmorton 
wrote  as  follows. 

To  Dr.  Leicester. 

*'  In  vain,  my  dear  Sir,  you  preach  resig- 
nation and  hope,  to  such  a  being  as  1  am  ; 
all  is  chaos  and  confusion  within  my  mind. 
1  look  upon  this  world  with  despair,  and 
on  the  next  with  doubt  and  anxiety.  \ou 
too  well  know  by  what  progressive  steps  I 
arrived  at  the  summit  of  folly.  Repent- 
ance and  resolution  might  have  retrieved 
my  fortune  and  my  peace;  but  where,  oh 
■where  is  the  lenient  balm  which  can  assuage 
the  stings  of  conscience,  proceeding  from 
the  guilt  of  having  deprived  a  fellow -crea- 
ture of  existence!  a  fellow-creature  who 
was  once  my  heart's  bosom  friend,  whose 
welfare  and  happiness  were  dear  to  me  as 
my  own  !  What  can  1  say  of  my  uMbaj)py 
sister!  how  wide  extends  the  afflicti(.n  of 
which,  too  truly  alas,  she  was  the  primary 
cause  ;*  a  cause  which  originated  in  timid 
apprehension  of  the  austerity  of  a  parent. 
But  1  will  not  reflect  on  the  memory  of 
one,  whose  uncongenial  nature  to  ihe  do- 
mestic hahits  of  his  family  procluded  the 
possibility  of  a  reciprocal  confidence.     My 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  107 

poor  mother!  Sir,  you  know  not  half  her 
excellencies  ;  nor  what  she  has  siitfered 
from  the  delicate  sensibilities  of  her  nature 
being  little  understood,  and  never  appre- 
ciated. To  her  counsels,  even  from  my 
boyish  days,  do  1  attribute  the  little  good 
my  mmd  was  ever  blessed  with  ;  and  1  tiave 
now  so  pierced  her  heart,  that  on  this  side 
the  grave  the  wound  can  never  know  a 
cure.  As  to  my  wife,  ihf  angelic  being 
who  smiles  whdst  her  heart  is  rent  with 
despair,  wtio  endeavours  resolutely  to  com- 
bat the  gloomy  temper  of  my  soul,  and 
would  share  and  soothe  my  every  woe, 
Avhat  shall  1  say  of  her?  Alas  !  I  know  her 
suiieriugs,  and  though  my  heart  swell  to 
agony  at  the  thought,  I  feel  the  inijjossi- 
biliry  of  their  abatement.  Could  my  father 
now  witness  my  degradation,  and  her  ex- 
alted virtues;  how  would  he  reprobate 
those  false  ideas  whi(di  were  inimical  to 
our  union  !  She  is  now  the  only  support  of 
my  guilty  and  remorseless  mind  ;  and  per- 
haps the  grand  tie  which  prevents  the  cord 
of  life  from  being  voluntarily  snapped 
asunder.  Why  am  I  wretched  in  the  bo- 
stmi  of  my  family  ?  Why  do  I  only  breathe 
with  freedom  in  the  wild  and  unfrequented 
paths  of  nature?  The  'midnight  hour  of 
m>^  iitation  is  the  best  solace  of  my  feelings  ; 
the  solitary  owl,  and  the  last  sounds  of  a 


1U8  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

retiring  world,  the  best  companion  and  mu- 
sic to  my  diseased  imagination.  The  jar- 
ring elements  are  more  congenial  to  my  na- 
ture than  the  serenity  of  a  summer's  sky, 
studded  with  a  thousand  evidences  of  an 
unknown  Almighty  power.  *" 

"  How  shall  1  drag  on  a  wretched  exist- 
ence ?  How  shall  I  silence  the  feelings  of 
remorse  ?  i  am  sometimes  almost  tempted 
to  wish  that  my  ideas  of  right  and  wrong 
were  better  suited  to  my  situation,  that  1 
could  regard  with  apathy  the  crime  I  have 
committed,  and  baffie  the  scrutiny  of  a 
misjudging  world,  by  again  mingling  with 
its  gay  inhabitants.  The  remedy  must 
eventually  prove  a  successful  one,  or  the 
world  could  not  boast  such  various  exam- 
pies  of  the  triumph  of  guilt  over  the  power 
of  conscience  ;  and  whilst  the  successful 
duellist  is  revelling  in  the  smiles  of  pros- 
perity, the  crime  of  murder  is  onl}''  another 
name  for  bravery. 

"  Had  I  even  met  poor  Dorville  upon 
equal  terms,  there  might  be  some  extenua- 
tion of  my  guilt.  What  avails  my  acquit- 
tal at  an  earthly  tribunal.  No  recording 
angel  can  drop  the  tear  of  commiseration, 
and  blot  out  the  remem.brance  of  such  an 
outrage  to  humanity.  ****** 
#*      *      *      *"*      ****** 

"  A  cry  of  distress  obliged  me  to  leave 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  109 

you  yesterday,  most  abruptly  ;  our  few  ser- 
vants all  appeared  in  contusion.  1  mechan- 
ically followed  them  into  t4ie  garden,  or  ra- 
ther preceded  them.  By  the  side  of  a  pond, 
1  found  my  Emily  in  the  attitude  of  despair, 
just  attem})ting  to  plunge  into  the  water  ; 
I  forcibly  withheld  her  ;  the  nursery-maid 
was  in  a  fit  on  the  grass,  and  froin  little 
Mary  I  soon  learnt  that  her  brother  had 
fallen  into  the  pond.  All  this  passed  instan- 
taneously, and  before  any  one  understood 
the  nature  of  the  distress,  I  had  jumped  in- 
to the  pond  and  rescued  my  boy.  A  few 
seconds  more  must  have  proved  fatal,  for 
he  was  nearly  exhausted.  Emilv  heroical- 
ly exerted  herself  to  restore  the  child  ;  and 
when  he  gave  siii;ns  of  returning  life,  she 
threw  herself  into  my  arms,  and  could  only 
say,  '  Heaven  bless  my  husband,  the  pre- 
server of  his  child  !' 

"  The  first  tears  I  had  shed  for  many> 
many  months,  fell  from  my  eyes  ;  my  heart, 
which  had  of  late  felt  like  a  burning  fire 
within  my  bosom,  appeared  softened  and 
relieved,  but  of  short  duration  was  the  new 
and  pleasing^  emotion  ;  a  few  hours  restored 
tranquillity  to  my  family,  but  the  an2:uisli 
of  my  heart  returned  with  redoubled  bit- 
terness. The  mild  but  expressive  eye  of 
E  adv  discovered  what  was  passing  in  my 
bosom,  and  1  flew  to  my  usual  haunts  of 
10  * 


iio  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

meditation  witii  gloomy  avidity,  and  spent 
half  the  night  in  the  indulgence  of  those 
reflections  so  distressing  and  so  unavailing. 
^Tis  true  1  had  been  the  means  of  saving 
the  life  of  my  child  ; — Nature  at  that  mo- 
ment resumed  her  rights,  and  1  have  since 
kissed  the  velvet  lips  of  innocence  with  all 
a  parent's  love.  But  when  I  reflect  that 
the  violence  of  youthful  passions  may  lead 
him  to  the  paths  of  vice  and  folly,  that  he 
may  become  as  wretched  a  being  as  his  fa- 
ther,! am  impious  enough  to  doubt  whether 
his  life 

"  ' 1  cannot  finish  the  sentence 

"  Adieu,  my  friend. 

"  Edward  Fitsmorton/* 

J}r,  Leicester's  answer. 

"  Notwithstanding  you  say  it  is  useless 
to  preach  resignation  and  hope,  I  shall  ne- 
ver be  weary  of  enforcing  to  you  their  salu- 
tary eftects.  In  truth,  my  dear  Sir,  you  are 
like  a  man  who  having  burned  his  hand, 
voluntarily  envelopes  his  whole  body  in  the 
devouring  flame.  I  am  well  aware  how 
sore  is  the  disease  which  afflicts  your  mind, 
and,  for  its  permanent  cure,  I  must  conti- 
nue to  probe  the  wound  with  the  greatest 
resolution.  Your  past  conduct  cannot  be 
excused — hardly  palliated.     You  have  err- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  lit 

ed  against  reason,  juds;iiient,  and  common 
sense.  You  have  outraged  the  laws  of  God 
and  man  ;  and  what  is  the  remedy  you  adopt 
for  these  crying  evils  I  You  tly  to  oloomy 
solitude  ;  and  by  cherisliing  the  selfish  feel- 
ings of  remorse,  by  unmanly  and  vain  re- 
grets ;  you  waste  those  hours  which  a  good 
and  gracious  God  has  vouchsafed  vou  for 
the  great  work  of  repentance.  Had  you 
fallen  instead  of  your  friend,  the  decree 
would  certainly  have  appeared  more,  con- 
sonant to  human  j<idgment;  but,  had  you 
fallen  with  all  the  weight  of  unrepented  sins 
and  follies  on  your  head,  human  judgment 
could  not  limit  your  fate  at  the  awful  tri- 
bunal of  heaven  !  Glance  not  at  the  dread- 
ful idea  of  rushing  self-devoted  into  the 
presence  of  your  Maker.  Remember,  Fits- 
morton,  that  it  is  more  frequently  the  refuge 
of  cowardice,  than  the  result  of  any  boasted 
bravery  of  spirit ;  and  always  doubles  the 
crimes  and  offences  it  seeks  to  tly  from. 

"  Infatuated  man  !  shake  off  the  despon- 
dency which  assails  you  ;  and  let  repent- 
ance lead  you  to  the  paths  of  peace.  *  The 
midnight  hour  of  meditation,  rhe  solitary 
owl,  and  the  jarring  elements,'  may  suit 
the  feelings  of  a  romantic  or  imaginary  af- 
fliction ;  but  when  did  this  mockery  of  vain 
sensibility,  produce  one  emotion  of  s^enu- 
ine  piety  ;  or  call  forth  that  sincere,  but 


112  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

heart-rending  expression  of,  '  God  be  mer- 
ciful to  me  a  sinner  !^  You  contemplate 
the  stormy  heavens  with  a  sickly  and  un- 
thankful miij(i,  or  su  certain  an  evidence  of 
the  unlimited  power  of  God  would  check 
every  presumptuous  idea,  and  encourage 
the  feelings  ot  religious  hope,  through  faith 
and  resignation. 

"  Could  you  regard  with  apathy  and  in- 
difference the  tollies  you  have  been  guilty 
of,  could  you  still  contribute  to  the  idle  pa- 
geantry of  an  hour,  and  stifle  remorse  under 
the  mask  of  gaiety,  1  should,  indeed,  con- 
sider yours  as  a  very  hopeless  case;  but 
you  still  would  cling  to  virtue  and  recti- 
tude;  only,  you  have  fatally  mistaken  their 
path.  Remember  that  sins,  deep  in  their 
dye  as  scarlet,  by  repentance  become  whit- 
er than  snow  ;  and  that  the  great  author 
of  redemption  came  not  in  the  world  to  de- 
stroy, but  to  save  sinners  ! 

*'  You  confess  that  your  mother's  heart 
is  pierced  wjth  tnany  sorrows,  and  how  do 
you  endeavour  to  alleviate  her  unmerited 
affliction?  By  estranginaj  yourself  from  her 
society,  by  forcing  her  to  believe  that  th.e 
son,  on  whom  she  once  rested  for  comfort 
and  protection,  is  for  ever  an  alien  to  his 
familv,  and  to  all  the  social  and  tlomestic 
duties  of  life  ;  by  convincing  her  that  your 
past  conduct  has  been  too  atrocious  to  me- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  113 

rit  the  forgiveness  of  heaven  ;  and  that  you 
are  the  seif-devoted  victim  of  unparalleled 
guilt.  To  your  amiable  wife  you  act  with 
still  more  unpardonable  cruelty.  1  have 
often  watched,  with  a  parent's  eye,  the  va- 
rious emotions  of  her  apprehensive  mind, 
i'itsmorton,  she  loves  you  so  truly,  that 
much,  1  fear,  her  tender  frame  cannot  long 
support  such  a  life  of  care  and  anxiety. 

"  Return  then,  my  dear  deluded  friend, 
to  social  and  domestic  comforts,  in  the 
plan  you  have  adopted,  you  have  not  gain- 
ed one  step  towards  peace  ;  try  the  active 
duties  of  life,  and  h)se  the  remembrance  of 
your  own  affliction,  in  adding  to  the  com- 
fort and  happiness  of  others.  Return  to 
FitsmortOH  Park,  and  let  rational  employ- 
ments and  pursuits  supersede  the  rant  of 
despair,  and- the  ebullitions  of  transitory 
remorse.  Tell  me  not  that  this  is  impos- 
sible, that  your  heart  is  impenetrable  to 
every  feeling  of  humanity  ;  for  I  have  sedu- 
lously marked  how  you  endeavour  to  sup- 
press the  tenderness  of  your  nature,  and 
to  encourage  every  misanthrophic  habit. 
Your  having  been  the  means  of  restoring 
your  child  to  life,  must  prove  a  lasting 
source  of  comfort ;  by  your  own  confession, 
the  feelings  of  the  father  then  prevailed 
over  the  affectation  of  the  cynic ;  and  btit 


n4     '  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

for  their  deliberate  suppression,  would  have 
been  ot  permanent  duration. 

"  Oh  that  1  could  persuade  you  to  hum- 
ble yourself  before  Him,  in  whose  hands 
are  the  issues  of  life  and  death  !  So  shall 
the  devout  confessions  of  the  penitent  chris- 
tian sustain  the  spirit  (^f  erring  luurjanity, 
and  he  that  said,  '  if  you  have  sinned,  sin 
no  more,'  be  ever  wiiling  to  balance  mercy 
against  the  scale  of  justice.  Let  me  en- 
treat you  to  search  the  scriptures.  \oii 
are,  I  fear,  hitherto  but  cursorily  acquaint- 
ed with  their  sac^red  import.  One  great 
obstacle  to  your  mixing"  again  in  society, 

♦  .is  the  fear  of  being-  led  astray  by  the  weak- 

ness of  your  own   heart,   that  the  spirit  of 
gaming  may  be  quieted,  not  vanquished  ; 

♦  and  it  is  far  less  criminal,  voii  say,  to  ojve 
yourself  up  to  unavyili!)nr  remorse,  than  to 
brave  the  temptations  whu  li  existing  cir- 
cumstances might  induce  you  to  yield  to. 
To  this  1  answer,  scenes  of  dissipation  and 
folly  are  best  avoided  ;  that  1  should  have 
much  less  hope  of  your  return  to  the  social 
duties  of  life,  were  you  confident  of  being 
al)le  to  meet  temptation,  that  diffidence  of 
yourself  I  gladly  hail  as  a  most  favourable 
symptom,  and  that,  after  your  dear-bought 
experience  of  the  dire  effects  of  unchecked 
impetuosity  of  feeling,  and  tlie  instability 
of  vicious  pursuits,  you  will  be  led,  both 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  115 

by  habit  and  incliqation,  to  the  rational 
pursuits  of  man  ;  and  by  abjuring  yice,  best 
evince  your  just  detestation  of  it,  aud  your 
repentance  of  having  nearly  proved  its  vic- 
tim. 

"  1  intend  soon  to  visit  the  cottage. — My 
prayers  are  yours. 

"  F.  Leicester." 


116  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

CHAP.  VI. 

Emily  continued  to  pass  her  days  iti 
dull  monotony,  or  in  anxious  apprehen- 
sion, on  Fitsuiorton^s  account.  She  with 
too  much  reason  anticipated  that  his  health 
would  suffer  from  his  being  constantly  ex- 
posed to  the  inclemency  of  the  v/eather, 
and  from  the  irritable  state  of  his  mind  ; 
and  she  dreaded  every  calamity  v/hich  anx- 
iety and  affection  could  suggest.  Her  hopes 
ever  rested  on  Dr.  Leicester's  expected 
visits  :  he  cheered  her  with  his  counsel, 
and  never  permitted  her  co  despair  on  the 
subject  most  interestino-  to  her  heart — the 
return  of  peace  to  her  beloved  husband's 
mind. 

She  was  ruminating  one  day  on  the  pos- 
sibility of  such  a  blessing,  when  her  atten- 
tion was  aroused  by  an  elegant  carriage 
enteringthelittieenclosure  which  surround- 
ed the  cottage.  In  a  few  moments  Mrs. 
Barclay  was  announced,  and  the  ci-devant 
Miss  Sandford  stood  before  her.  Emily 
hud  a  confused  recollection  of  a  card  hav- 
ing been  left  at  the  house  in  town  just  be- 
fore her  misfortunes,  and,  being  unac- 
quainted with  the  name  of  Barclay,  she 
concluded  that  the  card  having  been  given 
to  her  originated  in  some  mistake.     Mrs. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  H7 

Barclay,  with  her  usual  volubility,  com- 
menced tlie  history  of  herself^ — "  That  she 
had  married  to  her  carriage — that  her  hus- 
band was  a  man  of  great  property — that, 
somehow  or  other,  he  had  taken  a  fancy  to 
her — and  so  she  was  persuaded  to  become 
his  wife/^ 

Emily  congratulated  her  on  her  good 
fortune. 

"  Fortune,  to  be  sure,  I  have,"  she  re- 
plied ;  "  but  poor  Mr.  Barclay  is  such  a 
martyr  to  die  gout,  that  he  ought  to  have  a 
nurse,  not  a  wife,  to  attend  him.  He  is, 
besides,  thirty  years  older  than  1  am,  a  lit- 
tle deformed,  and  very  captious  in  temper. 
We  are  now  passing  through  Wales,  for 
the  pleasure  of  travelling ;  and  having 
heard  of  your  change  of  circumstances,  1 
thought  it  might  appear  like  pride  not  to 
ask  you  how  you  do." 

Emily  slightly  bowed. 

Mrs.  Barclay  proceeded. 

"  And  how  are  your  spirits,  my  dear 
creature?  To  be  sure  this  is  a  very  differ- 
ent place  to  what  you  have  been  used  to. 
Dear  me,  how  surprised  you  must  have 
felt  when  Mr.  Fitsmorton  fought  a  duel  ? 
I  wish  you  would  tell  me  the  history  of 
yourself,  for  there  were  strange  reports 
abroad  upon  your  leaving  town.  You  would 
have    Fitsmorton    when   you   might   have 

VOL.  II.  11 


115  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

been  a  countess.  By  the  bye,  I  fancy  Mrs. 
Grosvenor  lias  paid  dearly  for  her  shameful 
conduct." 

"  My  mother,  are  you  speaking  of?  For 
heaven's  sake  tell  me  what  vou  know  about 
her  !" 

"  My  dear  soul,  don't  discompose  your 
spirits  ;  ]  really  know  nothing  to  a  certain- 
ty ;  only  a  tew  months  ago  Mr.  Barclay  w  as 
ordered  by  his  physicians  to  go  to  Bath, 
(he  was  attended  by  three  at  a  time;)  and 
1  saw  Mrs.  Grosvenor  walking  on  one  of 
the  parades — such  a  figure  ! — so  shabbily 
genteel !  that  1  hurried  away,  lest  she  should 
know  and  sp^ak  to  me.  She  had  on  a  bon- 
net that  formerly  her  own  maid  would  not 
have  worn  ;  and " 

Emdy  interrupted  her. 

"  And  is  it  possible  that  you  did  not 
wish  to  offer  relief  where  poverty  was  so 
conspicuous?  Did  you  never  see  her 
again  ?"  ' 

"  Never  !  Bi^sides,  one  would  not  wish 
to  have  any  intercourse  with  such  a  char- 
acter as  Mrs.  Grosvenor's.  Modest  marri- 
ed women  should  be  very  careful  how  they 
associate  with  cast-off  mistresses." 

Eniily  exclaimed- — "  Oh  my  poor  mo- 
ther!'' 

"  1  do  not  wonder,"  Mrs.  Barclay  con- 
tinued, "  that  you  should  be  so  afi'ected. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  Il» 

I  am  sorry,  however,  l  mentioned  the  sub- 
ject." Then,  looking  at  an  elegant  watch 
which  hung  conspicuously  by  her  side,  she 
said,  "  dear  me  !  Mr.  Barclay  only  allowed 
me  half  an  hour:  indeed  I  pleaded  hard  to 
come  to  you  even  for  so  short  a  time  ;  but 
1  told  him  how  proud  it  would  appear,  if  I 
did  not  visit  a  friend  in  distress  :  besides,  I 
wished  to  shew  you  my  elegant  carriage, 
and  the  beautiful   horses,  which   are  just 

purchased An't  they  dears? Look 

how  sweetly  they  toss  their  heads  up  and 
down.  But  1  forgot  to  ask  after  your  chil- 
dren, and  poor  Mrs.  Granby  !  Good  bye, 
dear  Emily  ;  keep  up  your  spirits  ;  1  am 
sorry  I  can't  stay  longer." 

So  saying,  she  fluttered  away  in  all  the 
thoughtlessness  of  folly  ;  nor  did  she  hear 
Emily's  exclamation  of,  "  Merciful  Hea- 
ven !  grant  me  patience  !" 

The  unfeeling  vulgarity  of  Mrs.  Barclay's 
rpanners,  and  her  ill-judged  attempts  at 
consolation,  were  forgotten  in  the  idea  of 
her  mother's  return  to  England,  perhaps 
now  in  distress,  or  in  absolute  want.  And 
she  vainly  formed  a  thousand  plans  for  as- 
certainmg  Mrs.  Grosvenor's  real  situation. 
By  Fitsmorton's  advice,  she  wrote  to  Dr. 
Leicesrcr,  who  caused  adverti^ments  to 
be  inserted  in  the  newspapers,  so  cau- 
tiously worded,  that  only  the  parties  them- 


1^«  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

selves  could  comprehend  their  meaning, 
Emily  most  ardently  wished  tor  the  oppor- 
tunity and  the  power  to  relieve  her  mo- 
ther's distresses,  and  perhaps  to  shield  her 
from  further  misery.  She  wished  to  for- 
get the  neglect  she  herselt"  had  experienced 
during  her  infancy  ;  and,  when  pressing  her 
own  children  to  her  bosom,  wondered  how 
such  a  neglect  could  have  been  possible. 

Dr.  Leicester  continued  his  visits  and 
his  letters  to  Fitsmorton  ;  and  Emily,  vi'ho 
watched  all  his  emotions  with  unalleviating 
anxiety,  was  so  frequently  disappointed  in 
the  fallacious  hopes,  she  could  not  some- 
times help  encouraging,  that  her  husband's 
mind  would  eventually  be  restored  to  peace. 
She,  however,  had  the  satisfaction  to  know 
that  he  regarded  her  as  the  most  perfect  of 
human  beings;  and  often  would  he  exclaim, 
"  My  Emily  !  I  do  indeed  appreciate  thy 
worth  ;  and  though  happiness  and  1  are,  I 
fear,  now  and  for  ever  at  variance,  for  thy 
dear  sake  I  will  continue  to  endure  exist- 
ence. Oh,  had  1  early  confided  to  thee  all 
my  doubts  and  perplexities,  I  should  pro- 
bably have  escaped  every  disgraceful  fasci- 
nation. I  should  not  have  been  the  des- 
troyer of  my  friend  !" 

Mrs.  Gj|ml\y  was  gradually  recihvering 
health  of  body  and  mind.  Mrs.  Fitsmor- 
ton was  never  prevailed  upon  to  leave  her. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  l2Ti 

Alfred  Granby  had  felt  all  that  human  na- 
ture could  feel  under  the  pressure  of  such 
a  disappointment  and  misfortune,  and  hu- 
manity plead'^d,  when  the  delicacy  of  his 
feelings  would  have  condemned  ;  and  he 
endeavoured  to  hope  that  the  affection  of 
a  wife  and  mother  would  supersede  every 
other  consideration.  With  returning  rea- 
son, Mary  seeuied  to  exert  more  fortitude 
than  her  nature  had  hiiherto  evinced.  Mrs. 
Fitsmorton's  conduct,  her  husband's  anxi- 
ety, and  the  sight  of  her  lovely  blooming 
child,  were  powerful  incentives  to  conquer 
unavailing  regrets,  and  to  look  forward  to 
future  peace.  The  idea  only  of  meeting 
her  brother,  subdued  her  feeble  spirits,  and 
her  tremulous  accents  ever  betrayed  an 
alarmins:  aoitation  when  he  was  mentioned. 
Travelling  was  strenuously  recommended 
to  perfect  her  recovery; — and,  accompani- 
ed by  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  and  her  husband, 
she  soon  left  England,  every  thing  being 
arranged  for  a  long  foreign  tour.  Nothing 
could  induce  her  to  be  separated  from  her 
child  ;  she  seemed  to  exist  but  in  its  pre- 
sence:  and  frequently,  with  tears  of  grati- 
tude, she  would  put  the  infant  in  her  hus- 
band's ^ll^,  and  term  it  the  pledge  of  his 
forgiven^J  and  of  her  future  peaft. 

Emily  acceded  to  the  necessity  of  their 
departure,  and  had  received  the  mournful 
11  * 


122  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

consolation  of  a  visit  from  Mrs.  Fitsmortoii. 
The  meeting  and  parting  viith  her  son,  was 
indeed  a  very  severe  trial ;  nor  was  he  less 
affected,  though  he  endeavoured  to  con- 
ceal the  agitation  he  experienced. 

Catherine  Walker  ever  continued  a  faith- 
ful and  valuable  servant  ;  her  care  and  af- 
fection for  the  child  knew  no  bounds  ;  and 
her  gratitude  to  Mrs.  Fitsmorton  and  Emi- 
ly ceased  but  with  her  life. 

Franks  ended  his  days  in  a  prison,  and 
died  unpitied  and  unregretted. 

Emily  had  nearly  given  up  in  despair  the 
hope  of  again  returning  with  her  husband 
to  society.  His  mind  continued  the  prey 
of  unavailing  remorse  ;  and  the  sad  remem- 
brance of  his  lamented  friend,  was  the  ne- 
ver-failing sting  which  lacerated  his  bosom. 

Mr.  Macartny  and  Miss  Travers  were 
just  at  this  period  united.  Emily  had  one 
morning  received  the  interesting  intelli- 
gence ;  and,  feeling  rath«r  more  than  usual- 
ly composed  and  cheerful,  she  summoned 
the  children  to  take  with  her  their  accus- 
tomed ramble.  The  fineness  of  the  day^ 
the  beauty  of  the  scenery,  and  the  apparent 
enjoyment  of  the  children,  induced  her  to 
prolong  her  walk  beyond  its  us|J||  bounds. 
She  soo^  perceived  a  man  at  4Pnttle  dis- 
tance, advancinf>-  towards  her  ;  fear  was  a 
stranger  to  her  bosom,  for  a  robbery  in  the 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  *53 

environs  of  the  village  where  she  resided, 
would  have  been  a  singular,  an  unheard-of 
event.  What  then  was  her  astonishment, 
when  the  man,  apparently  disguised,  came 
up  close  to  her,  and  seizing  her  rudely  by 
the  arm,  presented  a  pistol  to  her  breast. 
The  children  screamed  in  wild  affright,  and 
clinging  to  her  gown,  she  felt  the  danger  of 
their  situation,  and  the  horror  ot  her  own. 

"•  1  will  give  you  my  purse,  (she  exclaim- 
ed,) only  take  away  the  pistol,  and  harm 
not  my  little  ones.^' 

"  Sorceress,  (the  man  answered,)  it  is 
not  your  purse  1  would  have,  it  is  your 
lovely  self.  Did  I  not  once  tell  you  that 
you  should  sue  to  me  for  pity?" 

Emily  now  recognised  the  voice  of  Sir 
George  Sinclair;  she  had  presence  of  mind 
sufficient  to  recollect  the  derangement  of 
his  senses,  and  that  the  malady  had  of  late 
alarmingly  increased.  Endeavouring  to 
suppress  her  terror,  she  sought  to- tempo- 
rise with  his  violence.  The  wild  and  un- 
frequented pa^h  she  had  chosen,  gave  little 
hope  of  chance  assistance,  or  relief.  And 
she  at  length  found  it  impracticable  to  dis- 
engage herself  from  his  ferocious  orasp,  or 
to  silen^^he  screams  of  her  terrified  chil- 
dren.    iS! 

Sir  Georsre  Sinclair,  after  a  sort  of  con- 
vulsive triumphant  laugh,  said  : 


124  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

*'  You  have  trifled  with  me,  beauteous 
deceiver.  You  should  have  fled  to  me  for 
refuge  under  your  late  misfortunes.^^  And 
after  continuing  to  reproach  her  in  a  wild 
and  incoherent  manner,  he  suddenly  seized 
her  little  boy  in  his  arms,  and  levelled  the 
pistol  at  his  hf-ad.  "  You  will  not  fly  me 
now,  (he  continued,)  this  moment  repays 
all  my  sufferings.  1  urn  followed  by  the 
woman  1  have  so  long  adored." 

Poor  Emily  did  indeed  toliovv  him,  and 
desperate  from  the  situation  of  her  child, 
she  endeavoured  to  snatch  him  from  the 
madman\s  arms  ;  and  at  the  same  time  for- 
tunately averted  the  pistol  from  its  dread- 
ful direction  :  and  as  she  caught  the  scream- 
ing child  to  her  bosom,  the  explosion  of 
the  pistol  bereaved  her  of  all  recollection. 
She  was  first  aroused  by  the  cries  and  la- 
mentations of  the  children.— r-Her  senses 
were  soon  restored  ;  and  with  all  a  mother^s 
joy,  when  she  perceived  that  they  had  es- 
caped danger  ;  but  a  sight  soon  met  her  eye, 
which  chilled  her  blood  with  horror;  the 
wretched  man  had  himself  received  the 
contents  of  the  pistol,  and  lay  apparently 
without  sense  or  motion,  the  blood  stream- 
ing from  his  mouth  a,nd  head,  ^he  fled 
from  the  spot  as  hastily  as  pfmKi\e  ;  but 
carrying  one  child,  and  soothing  the  other, 
she  arrived  at  her  own  cottage,  breathless, 
and  overcome  with  exertion  and  fatigue. 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  185 

Most  fortunately  Fitsmorton  was  at 
home  ;  Emily  tainted,  and  was  immediately 
conveyed  to  bed  ;  proper  people  were  sent 
to  remove  Sir  George  Sinclair  trom  the 
spot,  and  much  Fitsmoiton  apprehended 
various  and  unpleasant  consequences  might 
ensue  from  his  dearh.  This,  however,  did 
not  .prove  the  case  ;  he  lived,  but  he  lived 
over  after  a  wretched  maniac,  and  again  ex- 
perienced the  friendly  solicitude  and  hu- 
manity of  his  uncle's  honest  and  well- 
meaning  wife. 

The  fright  and  fatigue  which  Emily  had 
experienced,  brought  on  a  premature  con- 
finement, and  she  soon  lay  apparently  on 
the  bed  of  death.  Fitsmorton's  distraction 
cannot  be  described  ;  he  wrote  an  incohe- 
rent letter  to  his  friends  at  the  rectory  ;  and 
they,  with  their  usual  prompt  solicitude  of 
friendship,  arrived  at  the  cottage,  just  as  a 
few  hours  were  to  determine  the  life  or  death 
of  Emily  !  He  found  Fitsmorton  in  all  the 
agony  of  sorrow,  gazing  on  the  death-like 
appearance  of  the  unconscious  Emily.—' 
Mrs.  Leicester  took  her  station  a^the  bed- 
side, the  medical  attendants  were  awaiting 
in  fearful  expectation  of  the  awful  crisis. 
And,  at  thl||ight  of  Dr.  Leicester,  Fits- 
morton relapsed  with  despairing  violence 
to  a  more  acute  sense  of  his  affliction. 
"  Tell   me   not,  (he  said,)   of  comfort. 


126  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

cheat  me  not  with  the  vain  delusions  of 
hope  ;  I  will  not  survive'her  loss  !" 

Dr.  Leicester  saw  how  vain  were  the  at- 
tempt to  reason  at  that  moment  with  his 
despairing  friend.  But  he  forcibly  conduct- 
ed him  to  the  chamber  of  death,  being  well 
assured  nothing  could  at  that  period  agitate 
his  apparently  dying  wife.  Then  holding 
him  gently  by  the  arm,  he  said  : 

"  Fitsmorton  !  if  any  thing  can  check  the 
impiety  and  violence  of  your  conduct,  it 
must  be  the  scene  before  you  ; — contem- 
plate the  awful  situation  of  that  angelic 
being  ;  and  then  say  if  the  indecency  of  in- 
vective ; — if  the  impiety  of  the  dreadful 
threats  you. have  pronounced  to  a  God,  on 
whose  fiat  her  fate  still  depends,  can  be 
productive  of  any  thing  but  present  or  fu- 
ture misery  to  yourself.  Recollect,  infatu- 
ated man  !  how  you  have  hitherto  neglected 
the  fairest  flower  that  ever  bloomed  ;  how 
370U  have  fled  from  the  charm  of  her  socie- 
ty to  frightful  and  unavailing  solitude,  and 
substituted  the  rantof  despair  for  real  pen- 
itence of  spirit.  Weil  may  such  conduct 
now  rise  up  in  judgment  against  you, 
when  the  blessing  that  was  bestowed  for 
the  solace  <»f  your  existence^.may  now  be 
remtived  for  ever  !" 

Fitsmorton  gr'^'aned,  aii'l  said  :  "  For- 
bear ! — 0;i,  in  mercy,  forbear  these  just 
reproaches."  ^ 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  IC7 

*•  I  have  a  cruel  task  to  perform,  Fits- 
mortoij  !  But  1  would  arouse  yuur  }fi  dor- 
mant tdculiies  to  every  teeling  of  religious 
hope.  1  would  ur^^e  you  lo  liuitible  yt)ur- 
seh  before  Hiiu,  in  whose  liaiids  are  the 
issues  of  lite  and  deatli,  to  confess  with 
humility  every  past  otieuce.  And  if  this 
angel  be  yet  permitted  to  dwell  among  us, 
to  devote  your  future  lite  to  every  active 
duty,  and  to  those  pursuits  consonant  to 
the  character  of  a  man  and  a  chriJslian." 

Filsmorton  wept  like  a  child  ;  the  ago- 
nizing burst  of  tears  seemed  to  give  vent 
to  the  feelini^s  of  oppressed  naiure.  He 
knelt  by  the  side  of  his  adored  tmiiy,  and, 
taking-  her  lifeless  hand,  held  it  to  his  iijjs 
in  silence  :  his  eyes  turned  towards  Hea- 
ven, as  if  he  wished  to  h  »!d  communion 
•With  his  Maker.  Dr.  Leicester  had  heen 
assured,  from  ihe  ptiysicians,  that  some 
hours  would  yet  ela:)se  before  the  crisis  of 
her  fate  could  he  determined  :  he  therefore 
permitted  Fitsmorion  lo  indulge,  with<»ut 
restraint,  em  )ii(nis  so  newly  awakened; 
and  the  ha!IovV(^tl  oja'^'ulatit'ii  luirsiina' trom 
his  lips  f»t,  "  Merciful  God,  restore  her  !" 
gave  every  hapoy  presage  that  the  suppli- 
cation of  real  penitence  would  even»uaily 
foll>w. 

Dr.   Leicester  th  mi  read,   in  solemn  and 
impressive  accents,  prayers  suitable  to  the 


112S  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

occasion  ;  Fitsmorton  still  kneeling,  with 
his  eyes  rivetted  on  Emily,  one  moment 
fancying  she  had  ceased  to  breathe;  and 
the  next,  imagining  some  alteration  was 
taking  place  tor  the  better.  At  length  the 
predicted  hour  was  nearly  arrived  tor  her 
death,  or  her  recovery.  Every  eye  was 
fixed  upon  her  countenance — the  physician 
endeavouring  to  judge,  by  her  pulse,  whe- 
ther he  might  suppress  or  encourage  hope: 
he  alone  was  now  the  object  of  Eitsmor- 
ton's  attention  ;  and  conjecturing,  by  his 
manner,  the  worst  that  could  happen,  he 
sat — the  image  of  despair. 

A  convulsive  sigh  from  Emily  electrified 
all  around  her.  The  physician  motioned 
that  they  should  leave  the  room  ;  and  Fits- 
morton imagining  that  the  dreadful  sen- 
tence was  accomplished,  rushed  from  the 
apartment  in  speechless  agony,  to  which 
succeeded  paroxysms  of  returning  violence, 
almost  shaking  the  seat  of  reason,  and  cer- 
tainly putting  to  flight  every  emotion  of 
hope  and  resignation. 

Mrs.  Leicester  had  remained  in  the  room, 
and  most  ^^rateful  to  her  affectionate  and 
anxious  heart  were  the  words,  "  She  lives  ! 
Her  disorder,  m;tdam,  will  subside." 

Emily,  in  a  short  time,  verified  the  doc- 
tor^s  predictions;  the  sleep  of  apparent 
death  had  yielded  to  the  lighter  slumber  of 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  I29 

returning  health,  and  she  soon  awoke,  to 
know  the  kind  friend  who  attended  her, 
she  faintly  articulating,  "  My  husband  ! — 
my  children  !''  Fitsniorton,  who  had  sta- 
tioned himself  at  the  chamber  door,  no 
sooner  caught  the  sound  of  her  voice,  than 
most  inconsiderately  he  sprang  to  the  side 
of  the  bed,  and,  supporting  Emily  in  his 
arms,  he  cried,  "  She  lives  ! — she  lives  !" 
Then  gazing  on  her  pallid  countenance,  he 
discovered,  with  agonizing  repentance,  that 
his  sudden  appearance  had  overpowered 
the  yet  too  feeble  faculties  of  her  mind  and 
body.  Of  course,  all  proper  assistance  was 
recurred  to,  and  Fitsmorton,  gaining  cau- 
tion from  experience,  was  guided  in  future 
by  the  advice  of  his  kind,  but  less  impetu- 
ous friends. 

Her  recovery  was  slow  and  tedious ;  her 
patience  and  resignation  were  most  exem- 
plary;  and  she  could  not  help  flattering 
herself  that  the  gloom  of  Fitsmorton's  mind 
seemed  gradually  to  abate;  he  lived  but  in 
her  presence;  his  sequestered  and  gloomy 
haunts  were  neglected,"  and  the  conduct 
and  sentiments  of  this  interestin:^-  creature 
almost  convinced  him  that  the  souPs  forti- 
tude, derived  from  the  precepts  of  Chris- 
tianity, was  no  chimerical  idea  ;  for  what 
else  could  have  supported  her  throuijh  the 
trials  she  had  experienced?  And  now  her 

VOL.  II.  12 


no  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

just  and  afTectionate  reasoning  of  man's  de- 
pendency—her  gratitude  for  being  again 
permitted  to  watch  over  her  husband's 
mind,  and  the  arguments  she  advanced  to 
persuade  him  to  renounce  the  romantic  de^ 
lusions  of  despair,  and,  by  sincere  repent- 
ance, to  trust  to  the  mercy  of  Heaven  ! — 
added  to  Dr.  Leicester'r  exhortations  and 
advice,  contributed  to  soften  the  austerity 
of  Fitsmorton's  ideas  ;  and,  from  doubting 
whether  he  was  right,  he  began  insensibly 
to  fear  that  he  had  been  wrong.  All  that 
religion  could  suggest — all  that  a  mind 
higldy  gifted  by  nature  and  education  could 
advance,  was  judiciously  and  kindly  offer- 
ed for  his  serious  consideration  :  and  he 
soon  listened  with  tolerable  composure, 
when  Emily  sweetly  intimated  her  hopes 
that  he  would  live  again  in  the  bosom  of 
domestic  gc)ciety.  And  now  the  bloom  of 
health  liad  irradiated  her  check  with  more 
than  usual  beauty,  and  ^these  newly-awak- 
ened ho])es  of  her  beloved  husband's  resto- 
ration to  peace,  bid  her  anticipate  future 
happiness,  but  for  tlie  recollection  of  the 
probable  misery  of  her  mother's  fate  !  Of 
that  fate,  however,  she  continued  to  re- 
main ignorant.  Mrs.  Grosvcnor  died  in 
wretchedness  and  poverty,  without  one 
friendly  ha^nd  to  smoothe  the  bed  of  death, 
or  to  ameliorate  her  dreadful  situation.    She 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  131 

continued  with  Lord  Sedley  for  some  time, 
revellinj^  in  all  the  luxury  which  vice  and 
folly  could  bestcrw  ;  but  soon  their  frequent 
altercations  were  productive  of  more  seri- 
ous quarrels,  and  he,  tired  of  her  waning 
charms  and  extravagance  of  disposition, 
wrote  her  his  last  farewell,  only  accom- 
panied with  a  bank-note  of  very  mode- 
rate value,  taxing-  her  with  certain  impru- 
dencies  of  conduct,  as  the  best  excuse  for 
so  sudden  a  desertion.  It  were  useless  to 
follow  her  through  all  the  changes  she  then 
experienced.  She  at  first  accepted  the 
protection  of  a  man  who  had  been  a  depend- 
ant of  Lord  Sedley 's  ;  but,  after  having 
arrived  in  England  with  him,  she  soon  tir- 
ed of  his  penurious  disposition,  and  they 
amicably  parted  by  mutual  consent.  Ever 
extravagant  and  unthinking  in  her  dispo- 
sition, she  could  little  assimilate  her  ne- 
cessities to  her  means  :  the  horrors  of  pover- 
ty were  advancing,  and,  after  having  visit- 
ed the  city  of  Bath  on  a  speculative  plan, 
with  an  equally  indigent  companion,  she, 
by  slow  deijrees,  plunged  into  every  vice 
that  could  disgrace  the  name  of  woman  : 
habitual  drunkenness  took  from  her  the 
power  of  reflection,  ruined  heXhealth,  and 
reduced  her  to  the  extreme,  of  poverty. 
There  were  mf)ments  when  she  remember- 
ed Emily  with  agony  ;  and  ere  she  could 


332  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

form  the  resolution  to  supplicate  relief 
from  her  hands,  she,  in  an  hour  of  inebrie- 
ty, met  with  an  accident,  which  soon  end- 
ed her  miserable  life. 

iler  remains  were  consigned  to  the  grave 
by  the  parish,  ^nd  Emily  was  for  ever  ig- 
norant of  the  sad  fate  of  her  mother  ! 

It  has  been  before  remarked,  that  Fits- 
morton's  character,  in  early  life,  was  de- 
cisively a  domestic  one.  Nature  had  im- 
planted the  seeds  of  virtue  in  his  bosom  ; 
an  affectionate  mother  had  endeavoured  to 
cultivate  and  improve  them  ;  and,  when 
removed  from  her  immediate  care,  he  was 
taught  every  accomplishment  which  could 
constitute  the  scholar  and  the  gentleman  : 
and,  had  parental  authority  been  softened 
by  friendship  and  affection  ;  had  he  been 
taught  by  example,  as  well  as  by  precept, 
to  worship  God  "  in  spirit  and  in  truth  ;" 
had  the  volume  of  Christianity  been  openetl 
to  his  view;  his  ch.aracter  might  have  re- 
mained free  from  reproach  :  or,  had  the 
weakness  of  humanity  even  prompted  the 
commission  of  those  vices  and  follies  he 
now'  suffered  from,  instead  of  the  unsatis- 
factory ebullitions  of  remorse  which  haras- 
sed his  mind,  witliout  a  prospect  ofrcjiev- 
ing  it,  ho  would  have  felt  and  acknowledg- 
ed that  one  tear  of  genuine  repentance  was 
more  acceptable   in   the  sight  of  heaven, 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  13J 

than  all  the  romancs  of  unrestricted  feel- 
ing, leading  to  the  gloomy  verge  of  crimi- 
nal despair  ;  that  no  sin,  however  erroneous 
in  its  nature,  but  may  be  remitted,  by  the 
adoption  of  a  new  life — by  embracing  that 
faith  which  leads  to  hope,  and  produces  the 
blessed  fruits  of  unlimited  charity. 

Fitsmorton's  habitual  carelessness  on  sa- 
cred subjects  ;  his  deplorable  ignorance  of 
the  sublime  truths  of  Christianity,  were  the 
grand  obstacles  which  Dr.  Leicester  lament- 
ed in  the  transformation  of  his  mind  :  but 
time  and  perseverance  accomplished  the 
task  ;  and,  as  religion  opened  new  sources 
of  consolation,  he  felt  less  repugnance  to 
return  to  the  practice  of  every  active  duty; 
and,  in  a  twelvemonth  after  Emily's  recov- 
ery from  the  bed  of  death,  he  consented  to 
reside  at  Fitsmorton  Park,  and,  by  degrees, 
his  mind  regained  that  serenity  which  his 
late  enthusiastic  feeling  would  for  ever 
have  forbidden. 

Mrs.  Fitsmorton  continued  abroad  with 
her  daughter;  and  just  before  their  expect- 
ed return,  Mrs.  Granby  app<^ared  alarming- 
ly to  droop,  from  the  sudden  attack  of  in- 
disposition. 

She  never  lived  to  meet  her  brother  ! — ■ 
an  idea  which  always  gave  rise  to  ag^oniz- 
ing  reflections.  A  consu'nptive  cotnplaint 
most  rapidly  undermined  her  constitution^ 


13*  THE  FATAL  CABINET. 

and  she  died  serenely,  in  the  arras  of  her 
mother  ! 

Mis.  Fitsmorton  and  Granby  returned 
to  England  iminediateiy  with  the  child  ; 
they  were  sincere  and  lasting  mourners  for 
her  death  :  but  time,  the  grand  soother  of 
al!  affliction,  in  some  measure  sul:)dued  the 
severity  of  their^s;  and  Mrs.  Fitsmorton 
exclusively  took  upon  herself  the  charge  of 
her  grand-daughter,  dividing  her  time  be- 
tween Granby  and  her  son's  family;  and 
she  lived  to  hold  in  her  arms  an  infant  of 
this  her  present  darling,  who  was  in  due 
tisni",  and  with  every  prospect  of  happiness, 
united  to  Fitsmorton's  eldest  son  ;  the  will 
of  the  untnrtunate  Dorville  being  hereby, 
in  every  respect,  accomplished. 

Einily  became  the  happy  mother  of  sev- 
eral other  children  ;  and  the  scrupulous  at- 
tention that  was  paid  to  their  moral  and 
religious  duties  was  amply  repaid,  by  their 
proving  a  blessing  and  an  ornament  to  so- 
ciety. 

Fitsmorton  could  never  be  persuaded  to 
make  any  permanent  residence  in  London, 
too  much  reminding  him  of  former  follies, 
whenever  necessity  compelled  him  to  make  . 
even  a  temporary  visit  there  :  the  select 
society  with  which  he  was  surrounded  ;  the 
education  of  his  children  ;  and,  above  all, 
the  cfear  woman  who  ever  remained  his  ra- 


THE  FATAL  CABINET.  135 

tional  companion  and  affectionate  counsel- 
lor, so  exercised  his  understanding,  and 
interested  his  heart,  that  he  had  Jittle  Jei- 
siire  or  inclination  to  seek  the  charm  of 
unbounded  variety  in  the  gay  region  of  dis- 
sipation. To  his  latest  hour,  the  sad  re- 
membrance of  Dorville  pressed  heavily  on 
his  mind  ;  but  the  horrors  of  an  accusing 
conscience  were  now  softened  by  the  de- 
vout aspirations  of  unaffected  penitence  ; 
and  the  folly  and  depravity  of  his  former 
conduct  only  remembered  as  a  mournful 
memento  of  human  weakness. 

Dr.  Leicester  lived  to  an  advanced  age; 
and,  in  every  visit  to  Fitsmorton  Park,  he 
felt  proudly  gratified  that  he  had  proved 
an  instrument,  in  the  hand  of  Providence, 
to  restore  Fitsmorton  to  the  bosom  of  his 
family,  and,  through  the  medium  of  repent- 
ance, to  that  peace  which  neither  the  fol- 
lies of  the  world,  nor  the  delusion  of  a  per- 
verted imagination,  could  bestow  ! 


BOOKS  ^^  STATIONARY, 

f)n  lower  terms  than  can  be  obtained  in  the  United  States. 


ISAIAH  THOMAS,  Jun. 

NO.  6   MARLBOROUGH-STREET, 

Informs  the  public^  that  having  establish' 
ed  a  Bookstore  at  Boston.,  and  hating  an 
extensive  correspondence  icilh  ail  the  princi- 
pal ■Booksellers  in  the  U7iited  States,  he  is 
enabled  upon  the  shortest  noiice  to  supply  any 
American  publications  which  he  may  not 
have  on  hand,  without  any  extra  cost,  and  he 
solicits  the  attention  of  all  who  wish  to  pur- 
chase on  liberal  terms,  to  cull  and  examine 
for  themselves. 

He  has  lately  published  and  has  for  sale  the 
following  valuable  woi'/cs — viz. 

Edwards's- VV^orks,  8  vols.  B  18  00 

Lathrops'  Sermons,  3  vols.  10  00 

Piutarc'li's  Lives,  6  vols.  .  7  50 

Flavins  Josephus,  3  vols.  8vo.  .        7  00 

Moral  Monitor,  2  vols.  2  00 

Koran  ;  or  Mahometan  Bible,  2  00 

Meri vale's  Devotions,  0  621 

Po'.reu.s's  Evidences,  0  60 

Hisrf»ry  of  the  Heathen  Gods,  0  871 

Z 'iii'  : >r<;r'a  Sermons,  2  v'ois.  8vo.  4  50 

Exercises  of  Piety,  0  75 

B':ii>";-o{i'^  Life  of  Washington,  2  7^ 
Williams'  History  Veimont,  2  vols.   5  50 


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